University, 

Souther 

Librar 


FRANK 

MWELL'S 
TRIP  WEST 


THE  LIBRARY- 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


'  Like  a  cat  he  leaped  aside,  and  the  blade  of  the  knife  in  Jack  Darrol's 
hand  was  driven  into  the  wall."  (kee  page  iso) 


Frank   Merriwell's  Trip  West 


BY 

BURT    L.   STANDISH 

AUTHOR  OF 

"Frank  Merriwell's  School  Days,"  "Frank  Merriwell's  Chums,'* 
"Frank  Merriwell's  Foes,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
DAVID    McKAY,    PUBLISHER, 

604-8  SOUTH  WASHINGTON  SQUARE. 


Copyright,  1902 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 


Frank  Merriwell's  Trip  West 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PACK 

I — In  a  Great  City    .        .        .        .        . 
II — In  the  Cab       .        .        .        .        . 
Ill— After  the  Accident        .... 
IV — The  Bogus  Telegram       .... 
V — Hans  at  the  Theater     .... 

VI— A  Frightful  Peril 

VIP -Struck  Down 

VHP -A  Captive 

I&— The  Mad  Dog      .        .        .      .  . 

X — By  Fire  and  Water 

XI— Out  of  the  River 

XII — At  Police  Headquarters    .... 
XIII— Between  Heaven  and  Earth 
XIV — The  Enemy  Unmasked    .... 
XV — De  Lancey  Duncan       .... 

XVI— The  Wreck 

XVII — Escape  and  Pursuit      .... 

XVIII — In  Spriggsboro 

XIX — Into  Chicago 

XX — Playing  the  Shadow        .... 
XXI— Left  to  the  Flames        .... 
XXII — A  Strange  Girl         .        .        .        . 
XXIII— A  New  Danger 


2035375 


fc  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XXIV — A  Temperance  Drink      .        .        .        .112 

XXV— The  Italian  Count       .        .        .        .        116 

XXVI — A  Cunning  Follower       .        .        .        .121 

XXVII— A  Note  of  Warning    ....       126 

XXVIII— Between  Two  Fires         .        .        ,        .130 

XXIX— Clearing  Up 135 

XXX— "Mr.  Hard  Pill" 140 

XXXI — The  Train  Wreckers  ....        145 

XXXII— Left! 150 

XXXIII — Mysterious  Explosions        .        .        .        155 

XXXIV — The  Experimenter 160 

XXXV— The  Stampede 165 

XXXVI— Splitting  the  Herd 170 

XXXVII— A  Ranch  Dance         .        .  .176 

XXXVIII— More  Trouble 181 

XXXIX— Frank  Overhears  a  Plot       .        .        .        186 
XL — In  the  Herders'  Hut         .        .        .        .191 

XLI— Edna 198 

XLII — A  Story  and  a  Mystery    ....  203 
XLIII — Discovery  of  the  Ring         .        .        .       209 

XLIV— A  Dauntless  Boy 214 

XLV — A  Gentleman  from  France  .        .        .       224 
XLVI— The  Professor's  Troubles         .        .        .  233 

XLVII— Parson  Peaceful 238 

XLVIII— In  the  Mine 243 

XLIX— Held  at  Bay 252 

L — The  Mystery  Explained  ....  258 


Frank  MerriwelTs  Trip  West 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN    A    GREAT    CITY. 

A  sudden  and  unexpected  stroke  of  apolexy  had  been 
the  cause  of  the  death  of  Asher  Dow  Merriwell,  Frank 
Merriwell's  uncle  and  guardian. 

There  were  a  few  clauses  in  the  will  which  came  as  a 
surprise  to  Frank,  even  though  he  had  known  his  uncle 
to  be  somewhat  original  and  peculiar. 

Mr.  Merriwell  had  desired  a  simple  funeral,  without 
ostentatious  display,  to  be  held  in  the  old  mansion  that 
had  been  his  home,  and  it  was  his  request  that  nothing  but 
a  small  marble  slab  be  erected  at  his  grave,  bearing  no 
inscription  save  his  name,  the  date  of  his  birth,  and  the 
date  of  his  death. 

As  he  believed  Frank  the  relative  most  closely  con- 
nected to  him  by  ties  of  blood,  and  as  he  loved  the  boy 
as  if  Frank  were  his  own  son,  he  bequeathed  him  every- 
thing of  which  he  died  possessed. 

But  he  forbade  Frank  to  wear  mourning  or  to  make  any 
prolonged  display  of  grief;  and  he  directed  the  boy  to 
leave  Fardale  Military  Academy,  which  he  had  attended 
so  long,  as  related  in  other  volumes  of  this  series,  and 
begin  a  series  of  travels  through  the  United  States  and 
other  countries.  In  order  for  the  boy  to  derive  the 
greatest  benefit  possible  from  his  travels,  continuing  his 
studies  meanwhile,  Mr.  Merriwell  desired  that  he  be  ac- 
companied by  a  competent  guardian  and  instructor,  and 
made  the  request  that  Professor  Horace  Orman  Tyler 
Scotch,  of  Fardale  Academy — generally  known  among 
the  cadets  as  "Hot"  Scotch,  on  account  of  his  fiery-red 


8  In  a  Great  City, 

hair  and  peppery  temper — should  become  Frank's  guard- 
ian and  companion. 

Further  than  this,  that  Frank  might  thoroughly  enjoy 
himself  during  his  travels,  Mr.  Merriwell  expressed  a 
desire  that  he  should  take  along  a  friend  and  comrade 
from  the  academy,  for  whose  expenses  a  provision  was 
made  in  the  will. 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Merriwell  had  met  Hans  Dunner- 
wust,  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  odd  ways  of  Frank's 
comical  little  Dutch  friend,  and  he  expressed  a  desire  that 
Hans  be  the  first  to  accompany  Frank.  At  the  same  time, 
he  gave  Frank  permission  to  choose  another  companion 
to  fill  Hans'  place  at  the  end  of  three  months  from  the 
setting  out  on  their  travels,  and  provided  that  he  might 
make  such  an  exchange  every  three  months  while  his 
journey  over  the  world  continued. 

What  boy  is  not  possessed  of  a  desire  to  travel — to  see 
the  world  ?  What  boy  has  not  dreamed  of  the  wonders 
of  the  great  cities,  majestic  mountains,  mighty  riv- 
ers, and  vast  oceans?  What  boy  has  not  longed 
to  behold  the  marvels  of  our  own  land,  the  strange 
things  and  people  to  be  seen  in  tropical  countries, 
the  inhabitants,  animal  and  human,  of  the  far 
North  and  the  far  South?  What  boy  has  not 
fancied  himself  on  the  boundless  western  prairies,  amid 
the  mountains,  sailing  over  tumultuous  oceans,  gliding 
across  the  placid  bosom  of  the  blue  Mediterranean,  drift- 
ing down  the  Red  Sea,  and  bounding  over  the  Indian 
Ocean?  What  boy  has  not  contemplated  the  delights  of 
visiting  the  countries  of  the  Old  World,  of  beholding 
London,  Paris,  Rome,  St.  Petersburg,  Constantinople, 
and  other  great  cities  across  the  ocean? 

Night  after  night  Frank  Merriwell  dreamed  of  these 
things.  He  dreamed  of  sailing  into  the  frozen  North ;  of 
being  amid  the  convicts  of  Siberia;  of  fighting  tigers 
and  killing  elephants  in  India;  of  pursuing  the  ostrich 
across  vast  deserts,  where,  in  the  blue  distance,  long 
camel  trains  could  be  seen  crawling  snail-like  along;  of 
tramping  through  African  forests,  surrounded  and  as- 
sailed by  deadly  dangers;  of  seeing  South  America  and 
Australia,  and  of  coming  safely  home  at  last. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  Frank  felt  no  grief  at  the 


In  a  Great  City.  9 

death  of  his  uncle,  for  Asher  Merriwell  had  been  like  a 
father  to  the  lad,  and  Frank  had  a  heart  that  was  tender 
and  affectionate,  as  well  as  tender  and  true. 

But  Asher  Merriwell  had  forbidden  a  display  of  grief, 
and  the  boy  resolved  to  respect  this  expressed  desire  of  the 
deceased.  Asher  Merriwell  had  directed  that  Frank 
leave  Fardale  Academy  at  once,  and  start  upon  his  travels 
through  the  United  States,  and  little  time  was  wasted  in 
doing  this.  , 

It  was  necessary  that  Professor  Scotch  should  be  ap- 
pointed guardian  of  Frank,  and  this  matter  was  not  de- 
layed. 

As  Mr.  Merriwell's  will  provided  that  Professor  Scotch 
should  be  well  remunerated  for  his  duties,  and  every  ex- 
pense of  travel  was  to  be  paid  from  the  fortune  left  to 
Frank,  the  little  professor  was  more  than  glad  to  resign 
his  position  at  Fardale  and  enter  without  delay  upon  his 
new  duties. 

And  so,  after  a  lapse  of  time  necessary  to  make  all 
arrangements,  Frank  started  for  New  York  City,  where  he 
was  to  join  Professor  Scotch  and  Hans  Dunnerwust. 
They  were  to  meet  at  the  Grand  Central  Station,  and 
everything  had  been  arranged,  so  it  seemed  there  could  be 
no  mistake. 

It  was  at  dusk  of  a  late  October  day  that  Frank  found 
himself  leaving  a  train  at  the  Grand  Central.  Dressed  in 
a  suit  of  brown  clothes,  with  stout  but  stylish  shoes  on  his 
feet,  a  brown  soft  hat  on  his  head,  and  with  an  alligator- 
skin  traveling  bag  suspended  at  his  side  by  a  strap  over 
his  shoulder,  he  stepped  briskly  down  the  long  platform 
that  ran  up  between  the  trains,  looking  the  picture  of  a 
handsome,  alert,  up-to-date  nineteenth  century  youth. 

"Keb,  sir,  keb !" 

"Have  a  carriage,  sir?" 

"This  way,  sir — this  way!" 

"Baggage,  sir— baggage !" 

A  line  of  hackmen  assailed  him,  shouting  and  gesticu- 
lating, but  he  passed  on,  gazing  to  the  right  and  left  for 
the  professor  and  Hans. 

He  looked  into  the  waiting-room,  but  the  persons  he 
sought  were  not  there,  and  he  was  turning  away  in  disap- 
pointment when  he  felt  a  touch  on  the  shoulder. 


io  In  a  Great  City. 

Turning  quickly,  the  blue-white  glare  of  the  electric 
lamps  showed  him  a  medium-sized  man,  who  wore  a  soft 
felt  hat,  the  brim  of  which  was  slouched  over  his  eyes. 
The  man  was  plainly  dressed  in  black,  and  a  full  black 
beard  concealed  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  man,  in  a  repressed  tone  of 
voice.  "I  think  from  your  appearance  that  you  are  the 
young  man  I  am  looking  for." 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Frank,  instantly  on  his  guard, 
for  he  did  not  intend  to  be  snared  by  a  sharper. 

"Your  name  is  Frank  Merriwell,  is  it  not  ?" 

"It  is,  sir." 

"I  thought  you  answered  the  description  give  me." 

"Given  you  by  whom  ?" 

"By  a  German  or  Dutch  lad  by  the  name  of  Dunner- 
wust." 

Frank's  suspicions  grew. 

"Why  should  he  give  you  a  description  of  me?" 

"So  I  could  meet  you  here." 

"Why  didn't  he  meet  me  himself?" 

"An  unfortunate  accident  prevented  that." 

"An  accident?" 

"Exactly." 

"What  kind  of  an  accident?" 

"A  very  serious  one,  I  am  afraid." 

Despite  himself,  Frank  began  to  feel  somewhat  alarmed, 
for  the  man's  manner  was  sincere  and  convincing. 

"To  whom  did  this  accident  happen  ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"To  your  guardian." 

"Professor  Scotch?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  could  have  happened  to  the  professor  ?" 

"He  was  struck  by  a  cable  car  on  Broadway,  and " 

"Killed?"  cried  Frank,  in  horror.  "Tell  me  the  truth! 
Was  he  killed?" 

"No,  but  he  was  seriously  injured — perhaps  fatally. 
The  gripman  saw  him,  but  not  in  time  to  stop  the  car  be- 
fore it  struck  the  professor,  who  was  knocked  down  and 
dragged  a  considerable  distance.  He  was  taken  up  in 
an  unconscious  state,  and  has  remained  thus  ever  since, 
except  for  one  or  two  brief  intervals  of  consciousness." 

Frank  Merriwell  was  shocked,  stunned,  stupefied.    He 


In  a  Great  City.  II 

stood  staring  at  the  man  as  if  he  did  not  fully  understand 
what  had  happened.  It  required  some  moments  for  him 
to  recover  sufficiently  to  gasp : 

"This  is  terrible!" 

It  seemed  very  natural  that  Professor  Scotch,  who  had 
passed  so  many  years  at  Fardale  that  he  must  have  be- 
come quite  unused  to  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  a  great  city, 
should  be  knocked  down  and  injured  by  a  cable  car,  for 
Frank  had  read  in  the  New  York  papers  of  the  many 
persons  who  had  met  with  accidents  of  this  sort. 

Somehow,  Frank's  suspicions  were  banished.  This 
man  knew  him  by  description,  knew  his  name,  knew  of 
Professor  Scotch  and  Hans  Dunnerwust,  and  must  have 
been  aware  that  they  were  to  meet  at  the  Grand  Central 
Station  at  the  hour  of  Frank's  arrival.  How  could  he 
know  all  these  things  and  be  a  rascal  and  an  impostor? 

"Why  didn't  Hans  meet  me  here  ?"  Frank  finally  asked* 

"He  has  not  left  Professor  Scotch  since  the  professor 
was  hurt." 

This  seemed  natural. 

"And  you  were  sent  to  meet  me?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  did  not  know  as  I  would  be  successful, 
but  Hans  Dunnerwust  gave  me  a  very  good  description 
of  you,  and,  as  he  knew  on  which  train  you  were  to  arrive, 
I  took  the  chances.  I  watched  all  the  passengers  as  they 
came  down  the  platform,  and  you  happened  to  be  the  only 
lad  who  was  unaccompanied.  I  followed  you,  and  I  saw 
by  your  movements  that  you  were  looking  for  some  one. 
Then  I  ventured  to  speak." 

"Take  me  to  the  professor  without  delay!" 

"All  right,  my  lad,"  came  briskly  from  the  hidden  lips 
of  the  black-bearded  man.  "This  way.  I  knew  you  would 
be  in  a  hurry,  and  I  had  this  carriage  wait." 

It  was  a  closed  cab.  Frank  entered,  the  stranger  fol- 
lowed, the  door  swung  to,  the  driver  whipped  up  his 
horses,  and  away  they  went. 

The  man  took  a  seat  opposite  Frank,  and,  as  it  was  now 
quite  dark,  he  could  be  seen  but  indistinctly  by  the  glare 
of  the  street  lamps. 

Not  a  word  had  passed  between  the  black-bearded 
stranger  and  the  driver  as  Frank  and  the  stranger  entered 


12  In  a  Great  City. 

the  cab,  yet,  the  moment  the  door  was  closed,  the  driver 
whipped  up  and  drove  at  a  high  rate  of  speed. 

This  seemed  natural  to  Frank,  who  fancied  the  driver 
had  been  directed  to  drive  that  way  by  the  black-bearded 
stranger,  who  had  given  every  direction  previous  to  the 
arrival  of  the  train  which  brought  the  boy  to  the  Grand 
Central  Station. 

The  cab  bounced  and  rumbled  over  the  paved  streets, 
passing  under  the  structure  of  an  elevated  railroad,  and 
then,  in  a  few  moments,  passing  under  yet  another  such 
structure,  upon  which,  from  the  cab  window,  Frank 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  swiftly  moving,  lighted  train. 

There  were  fruit-venders  at  street  corners,  with  thein 
flaring  torches  lighting  up  their  dark  faces,  and  their 
whistling  peanut  heaters  sending  up  tiny  spouts  of  steam. 
People  were  moving  to  and  fro  on  the  sidewalks,  cabs, 
carts,  and  cars  were  flitting  past,  and  the  roar  of  a  great 
city  rose  on  every  side  of  Frank,  who  was  so  stunned 
by  the  terrible  news  the  stranger  had  brought  him  that 
he  scarcely  realized  he  was  in  New  York. 

The  stranger  was  saying  nothing. 

"Where  was  the  professor  taken?"  Frank  asked,  pres- 
ently. 

"To  Bellevue  Hospital,"  answered  the  stranger. 

"And  is  this  the  quickest  and  shortest  way  there?" 

"Most  certainly." 

The  man  did  not  seem  inclined  to  talk  a  great  deal. 

Looking  from  the  window,  Frank  saw  the  carts  and 
cars  seem  to  grow  less  and  disappear  from  the  streets, 
saw  the  people  also  disappear  till  no  more  than  an  occa- 
sional pedestrian  was  observed,  saw  the  streets  grow 
darker  and  more  disreputable  in  aspect,  and,  finally,  be- 
came uneasy  and  suspicious.  The  stranger  drew  the 
shade  at  one  of  the  windows. 

"Why  do  you  do  that  ?"  demanded  Frank. 

"The  light  from  the  street  lamps  hurts  my  eyes,"  was 
the  explanation,  as  the  man  deliberately  drew  the  other, 
inclosing  them  in  dense  darkness. 

In  a  moment  all  Frank's  suspicions  returned  with  a 
rush,  and  he  believed  all  was  not  as  it  should  be. 

"I  must  have  one  or  both  of  these  shades  up,"  he  said, 
is  he  reached  to  raise  it. 


In  a  Great  City.  13 

"And  I  say  they  must  both  remain  down,"  returned 
the  man,  in  a  low,  harsh  tone  of  voice. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

A  strong  hand  suddenly  fastened  on  Frank,  and  these 
words  reached  his  ear: 

"I  mean  that  you  are  in  my  power,  Frank  Merawell.'r 


CHAPTER  H. 

IN  THE  CAB. 

Although  thus  suddenly  attacked,  Frank  instantly  grap- 
pled with  his  assailant,  determined  to  fight  for  liberty. 

As  my  old  readers  know,  Frank  had  been  the  cham- 
pion all-around  athlete  at  Fardale  Academy,  and,  boy 
though  he  was,  he  was  no  mean  antagonist. 

This  the  man  soon  discovered. 

A  hand  that  had  fixed  itself  on  Frank's  throat  seemed 
crushing  the  boy's  windpipe.  He  could  not  breathe,  and 
he  realized  that  he  must  obtain  a  breath  very  soon  or 
perish  from  suffocation. 

With  all  the  energy  he  possessed,  Frank  tore  at  that 
hand,  and  he  succeeded  in  releasing  his  throat. 

He  tried  to  cry  out,  but  the  terrible  pressure  seemed  to 
have  robbed  him  of  the  power  of  uttering  a  sound  other 
than  that  made  by  his  hoarse  gasping  for  breath. 

The  driver  had  whipped  up  his  horses,  and  the  cab  was 
rocking  and  swaying  and  bouncing  along  a  dark  and 
wretchedly  paved  street. 

With  all  his  strength  Frank  forced  himself  upward, 
striking  with  all  his  strength  at  his  unknown  enemy. 

That  blow  landed  fairly  in  the  man's  face,  and  he  ut- 
tered a  fierce  exclamation. 

But  he  did  not  strike  back. 

Then,  in  striking  at  the  man  again,  Frank's  hand  caught 
in  the  fellow's  beard,  which  came  from  the  face  it  had 
served  to  disguise,  revealing  to  the  lad  that  the  beard  was 
false. 

But  it  was  densely  dark  within  the  cab,  and  this  un- 
masking did  not  serve  to  show  the  youth  the  face  that  was 
hidden  behind  the  black  beard. 

It  was  a  horrible  battle,  and  Frank  knew  not  but  that  at 
any  moment  the  man  might  resort  to  a  deadly  weapon 
which  would  end  the  struggle  suddenly. 


In  the  Cab.  15 

The  man  and  boy  thrashed  about  within  the  cab,  and 
the  driver  must  have  known  the  battle  was  taking  place. 
That  the  driver  was  in  the  plot  with  the  man  who  had 
worn  the  black  false  beard  was  certain,  else  he  must  have 
stopped  to  investigate. 

Once  more  the  hand  came  up  and  gripped  Frank's 
throat.  The  boy  tried  to  tear  it  away,  but  it  clung  there 
tenaciously. 

"Now,  you  whelp !  I  have  you !" 

Frank  seemed  to  hear  these  words  spoken  at  a  great 
distance.  They  were  not  spoken ;  they  were  snarled,  as 
the  wind  sometimes  snarls  amid  the  rigging  of  a  ship  at 
sea. 

They  crashed  against  the  window  and  smashed  out  the 
glass,  which  let  in  a  grateful  bit  of  air,  the  place  having 
become  suffocating. 

Then  Frank  uttered  a  cry : 

"Help!  help!" 

The  man  struck  him  in  the  face,  and  the  bravely  fight- 
ing lad  returned  the  blow  with  interest. 

Then  Frank  flung  himself  against  the  door,  trying  to 
burst  it  open,  but  in  this  he  did  not  succeed. 

The  man  was  panting  now.  Plainly  he  was  astounded 
by  the  battle  the  lad  was  making.  He  would  have  been 
more  astounded  had  Frank  Merriwell  been  able  to  get  in 
a  good  square  blow,  straight  from  the  shoulder.  But  in 
that  cramped  space  Frank  was  at  a  great  disadvantage. 
Already  he  felt  that  he  was  capable  of  whipping  his  as- 
sailant in  an  open  space,  but  he  feared  that  those  ringers 
would  again  close  on  his  throat. 

His  fears  were  well  founded,  for,  suddenly  the  man 
had  him  by  the  windpipe. 

"This  time  you  can't  break  my  hold,"  he  cried. 

That  was  true.  Frank  struggled  madly  to  tear  the 
hand  away,  but  he  could  not  do  so.  He  knew  those 
fingers  were  bringing  about  his  death,  but  it  was  useless 
to  struggle.  Again  he  heard  the  roaring  and  saw  the 
bursting  lights.  And  then,  amid  the  roaring,  he  seemed 
to  hear  the  far-away  shouts  of  a  multitude  and  the  clang- 
ing of  a  bell. 

Clang!  clang!  clang! 


1 6  In  the  Cab. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  sound,  till  it  was  close  at 
hand,  mingled  with  a  frightful  uproar. 

"Clear  the  way !" 

He  fancied  he  heard  the  cry,  even  as  he  sunk  helpless 
on  the  seat,  overcome  by  the  hand  of  the  unknown 
enemy. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AFTER   THE  ACCIDENT. 

Clang!  clang!  clang! 

Faint  and  far  away  seemed  the  sounds,  yet  full  of  wild 
warning  and  alarm. 

Frank  Merriwell  seemed  to  feel  himself  floating  away 
on  a  bed  of  flowers,  from  which  arose  a  delightful  per- 
fume— away,  away,  away! 

Of  a  sudden  the  flowers  dropped  from  beneath  him 
with  a  great  crash,  as  it  seemed,  and  he  plunged  into  a 
pit  of  utter  darkness — nothingness — oblivion. 

When  Frank  recovered  consciousness  he  found  him-* 
self  stretched  on  his  back  upon  a  sort  of  cot,  and  he 
realized  he  was  still  being  conveyed  along  the  poorly 
paved  streets  by  some  kind  of  a  vehicle. 

Near  his  head  sat  a  man  who  was  serenely  smoking  a 
cigar,  as  Frank  saw  by  the  light  which  shone  in  now  and 
then  from  the  street  lamps. 

Whether  this  man  was  his  late  assailant  or  not  was  a 
question  that  troubled  Frank  somewhat  at  first. 

Surely  they  were  not  in  the  cab.  The  rear  end  of  the 
conveyance  they  were  in  was  wide  open,  admitting  light 
and  air. 

The  light  of  the  street  lamps  showed  Frank  that  the 
face  of  his  unknown  companion  was  youthful  and  beard- 
less ;  but  the  mar.  did  not  seem  to  be  dressed  the  same  as 
the  one  who  had  been  disguised  by  the  false  beard. 

That  he  had  been  unconscious  for  a  period  of  time  the 
boy  was  aware. 

How  long  had  he  been  in  such  a  condition  ? 

Frank  asked  himself  the  question,  but  there  was  very 
little  satisfaction  in  that,  for  he  could  not  answer  it. 

"What  has  happened  ?" 

He  spoke  the  words  aloud,  causing  his  companion  to 
look  down  at  him  and  observe: 

"So  you're  coming  round,  young  man?     Well,  you 


1 8  After  the  Accident. 

didn't  seem  to  be  very  much  injured,  although  the  smash- 
up  was  a  bad  one." 

"The  smash-up?  What  smash-up?  Tell  me  what  has 
happened!  Where  am  I  being  taken?" 

Frank  would  have  risen  to  a  sitting  position,  but  the 
man  placed  a  hand  on  his  breast,  and  held  him  down, 
saying,  sharply: 

"Now,  don't  get  excited,  as  it  is  quite  unnecessary,  and 
it  may  do  you  some  injury." 

"How— how " 

"Keep  calm,  I  say.  You  were  in  a  smash-up,  and  you 
were  picked  up  in  an  unconscious  condition.  How  se- 
verely you  are  injured  I  was  unable  to  tell  by  a  hasty  ex- 
amination, so  you  are  being  taken  to  the  hospital." 

"What  hospital?" 

"Bellevue." 

The  thought  that  this  might  be  a  continuance  of  the 
trick  that  had  been  worked  upon  him  flashed  through  the 
lad's  head. 

But  Frank  Merriwell  was  not  an  excitable  lad,  and  the 
presence  of  danger  made  him  calm  and  ready-witted  on 
almost  any  occasion.  He  lay  back  and  considered  what  it 
was  best  to  do.  As  a  result  of  his  act,  he  soon  came  to 
the  belief  that  he  had  really  been  in  some  kind  of  smash- 
tip,  and  was  lying  at  that  moment  in  an  ambulance  that 
was  taking  him  to  a  hospital.  His  companion  was  a 
young  surgeon  from  the  hospital. 

It  is  not  strange  that  Frank  was  eager  to  know  just 
what  had  transpired. 

He  questioned  the  surgeon,  who  explained  that  the  cab 
had  been  struck  by  a  fire  engine,  and  smashed.  The 
driver  was  not  injured,  and  it  was  surprising  that  Frank 
had  escaped  being  crushed.  He  had  been  picked  up  in 
an  unconscious  condition. 

Now  Frank  understood  the  meaning  of  the  clanging  he 
had  seemed  to  hear  while  that  hand  of  the  unknown  man 
was  fastened  on  his  throat.  It  had  been  no  fantasy  of  his 
roaring  brain,  but  it  was  the  warning  gong  of  a  fire  en- 
gine driven  at  full  speed.  Without  doubt,  the  engine  had 
turned  a  corner  suddenly  and  crashed  into  the  cab  in  a 
most  unexpected  manner.  The  cab  had  been  wrecked. 


After  the  Accident.  19 

and  one  horse  was  killed.  Truly,  Frank's  escape  from 
death  was  most  surprising  and  providential. 

But  the  man  who  had  snared  him — his  unknown  enemy ! 
What  of  him? 

"Was  no  one  else  injured  ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"No  one,"  replied  the  surgeon.  "Why,  the  engine 
didn't  even  stop ;  it  went  right  on  to  the  fire." 

"But — but  the  man  who  was  with  me  in  the  cab " 

"The  man  with  you?" 

"Yes;  what  of  him?" 

"Why,  the  driver  said  you  were  the  only  occupant  of 
the  cab." 

"Oh,  he  did!" 

The  young  surgeon  did  not  mistake  the  inflection  of 
Frank's  voice,  and  he  quickly  asked : 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  there  was  some  one  with  you  ?" 

"I  do." 

"Who?" 

"A  man — a  stranger." 

"Well,  it  is  singular  the  driver  knew  nothing  of  it." 

"He  did." 

"And  you  mean  to  say  he  lied  when  he  stated  that  you 
were  the  only  occupant  of  the  cab  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  what  became  of  the  other  man  ?" 

"That  is  something  I'd  like  to  know  myself,"  said 
Frank,  heartily.  "Nothing  would  please  me  better  than  to 
know  just  what  became  of  him.  It  seems  that  he  escaped 
without  injury." 

"He  must  have  escaped  thus;  but  I  don't  understand 
why  nothing  was  seen  of  him." 

Frank  understood  this  well  enough,  but  he  fancied  it 
might  be  best  to  say  nothing  further  in  regard  to  the 
stranger.  It  was  plain  the  man  had  not  been  killed  or 
severely  injured  in  the  accident,  and  he  had  not  lost  a 
moment  in  getting  away. 

Frank  Merriwell's  unknown  enemy  was  at  large,  and 
the  boy  felt  that  they  were  destined  to  meet  again. 

"When  we  do,"  thought  Frank,  "all  I  ask  is  that  I  may 
know  him.  It  seems  that  I  should  recognize  his  voice." 

Then  came  another  thought  to  Frank,  and  he  quickly 
asked : 


2O  After  the  Accident. 

"Can  you  tell  me  if  there  is  a  patient  by  the  name  of 
Professor  Horace  Scotch  in  Bellevue?" 

"Do  you  think  I  keep  run  of  every  patient  brought  in  ?" 
asked  the  young  surgeon,  rather  scornfully. 

"I  thought  it  possible  this  case  might  have  fallen  be- 
neath your  notice." 

"Well,  I  guess  not." 

"Do  you  know  if  there  is  a  patient  in  Bellevue  who  was 
knocked  down  and  injured  by  a  Broadway  cable  car?" 

"There's  no  such  patient  there  now." 

"You're  sure  of  it?" 

"Dead  sure." 

"Then,  can't  you  let  me  out  right  away  ?  See,  I  am  not 
injured.  I  was  no  more  than  stunned,  and  I  am  all  right 
now." 

"That  may  be  true,  but  I've  taken -you  into  this  am- 
bulance, and  you  will  have  to  go  to  the  hospital." 

Frank  soon  found  it  was  useless  to  protest,  and  so  he 
submitted  to  the  unavoidable. 

The  ambulance  soon  reached  the  hospital,  and  Frank 
was  removed  to  a  room  where  he  was  inspected  by  two 
surgeons,  who  could  discover  no  injuries  further  than  a 
few  bruises  and  abrasions.  Within  fifteen  minutes  after 
entering  the  hospital,  the  youth  was  at  liberty  to  leave  it» 

He  made  sure  that  Professor  Scotch  was  not  there, 
and  then  he  took  his  departure,  thoroughly  thankful  that 
he  had  come  through  the  affair  so  well. 

Walking  west  as  far  as  Second  avenue,  he  then  turned 
south,  and  soon  found  himself  on  Twenty-third  street, 
where  he  took  a  west-bound  car,  requesting  the  conductor 
to  let  him  off  at  Broadway  and  Fifth  avenue. 

Frank  had  purchased  a  guidebook  to  the  United  States 
and  Canada,  and  he  had  studied  the  map  of  New  York 
City  till  he  had  familiarized  himself  with  it,  and  his 
knowledge  began  to  prove  of  value. 

The  boy  knew  well  enough  when  Madison  square  was 
reached,  although  he  had  never  been  in  New  York  be- 
fore. The  lights,  the  trees,  the  fountains,  the  moving 
masses  of  humanity,  the  swiftly  gliding  Broadway  cable 
cars,  and  the  crush  of  cabs,  carriages,  cars,  and  human 
beings  where  Broadway  and  Fifth  avenue  cross  served 
to  make  his  blood  flow  more  swiftly  in  his  veins,  and 


After  the  Accident.  21 

gave  him  a  feeling  that  the  world  was  grand  and  beau- 
tiful, and  life  was  well  worth  living. 

Frank  left  the  car,  made  his  way  easily  and  readily 
through  the  mass  of  carriages  and  human  beings,  and 
reached  the  corner  of  the  sidewalk,  where  he  paused  to 
look  around. 

For  all  of  his  recent  perilous  adventure,  a  feeling  of  ela^ 
tion  had  seized  upon  Frank.  The  roar  of  the  city  was 
music  in  his  ears.  Here  was  life — throbbing,  pulsing  life. 
He  watched  the  big  policeman  piloting  squads  of  ladie^ 
across  the  dangerous  intersection  of  Fifth  avenue  and 
Broadway,  he  watched  the  changing  colored  lights  which 
formed  lettered  advertisements  high  up  on  a  dead  wall, 
and  over  at  the  Sixth  avenue  station  he  saw  two  elevated 
trains  pass  in  opposite  directions. 

Turning  to  walk  up  Broadway,  Frank  found  himself  al- 
most at  the  very  door  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  He 
had  seen  pictures  of  its  pillared  front,  and,  somehow,  from 
the  outside  the  place  was  disappointing  to  him. 

But  it  was  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  he  had  decided  to  stop 
while  in  New  York,  so  he  entered  briskly  and  unhesi- 
tatingly. As  he  did  so  he  ran  plump  into  a  fat,  round- 
faced,  comical-looking  boy,  who  staggered  back  a  step, 
exclaiming : 

"Shimminy  Gristmas!" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    BOGUS    TELEGRAM. 

"Hans!" 

"Vrankie !" 

Two  surprised  and  delighted  lads  they  were,  for  the  fat 
boy  was  Hans  Dunnerwust. 

"Dunder!"  gasped  the  Dutch  lad,  his  eyes  bulging. 
"Vos  dot  you,  Vrankie  ?" 

"I  rather  fancy  it  is,"  laughed  Frank,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"How  you  peen  in  New  York  alretty  yet  ?"  asked  Hans, 
stupidly,  making  no  attempt  to  take  the  proffered  hand. 

"A  regular  railroad  train  brought  me,"  answered 
Frank,  as  he  got  hold  of  the  Dutch  lad's  pudgy  fingers 
and  gave  them  a  squeeze  that 'made  Hans  cringe. 

"Veil,  uf  dot  don'd  peat  der  pand !" 

"Where  is  the  professor?" 

"In  his  room  der  elefator  up." 

"Take  me  there." 

But  Frank  was  forced  to  take  hold  of  Hans  and  turn 
the  boy  about  before  they  could  get  started,  and  the 
Dutch  lad  continued  to  mutter : 

"Veil,  uf  dot  don'd  peat  der  pand !" 

Down  the  long  corridor  they  passed,  with  well-dressed, 
prosperous-appearing  men  sitting  about  on  sofas,  reading, 
chatting,  smoking,  and  other  prosperous-looking  men 
standing  in  groups  to  talk  or  moving  briskly  up  or  down 
the  tiled  floor. 

Hans  succeeded  in  finding  the  elevator,  after  some 
trouble,  and  they  were  soon  in  the  car. 

"Which  floor  ?"  asked  the  elevator  boy,  as  the  car  glided 
upward,  with  Hans  clinging  to  himself  with  both  hands 
and  looking  scared. 

"Vot?"  asked  the  Dutch  lad,  dully. 

"Which  landing?" 

"How  you  mean,  ain'd  id?  Dis  don'd  peen  any 
schooner,  I  pet  you.  Uf  she  vas,  shust  run  her  up  to  det 
pest  wharf  der  ranch  in." 


The  Bogus  Telegram.  23 

"Do  you  know  which  floor  you  want  to  get  off  at?" 
came  the  sharp  question. 

"Yaw." 

"Then  which  is  it?" 

"Der  vloor  Brofessor  Scotch  has  a  room  on,  py 
shimmy !" 

"Well,  which  is  that?" 

"Veil,  uf  you  ask  me  dot,  I  pelief  you  don'd  know  mein 
pizness.  Vot  you  peen  here  vor,  ain'd  id?" 

Frank  was  enjoying  this  thoroughly;  but  when  the 
elevator  boy  applied  tc  him,  he  was  unable  to  be  of  any 
service,  as  he  had  failed  to  look  on  the  register  to  see 
which  room  the  professor  had  taken.  This  made  it 
necessary  for  them  to  descend  to  the  main  floor,  where 
Frank  visited  the  office,  and  soon  found  the  name  of 
H.  O.  T.  Scotch  on  the  register,  followed  by  the  number 
of  the  room  taken  by  the  professor. 

This  time  there  was  no  trouble  in  being  let  off  at  the 
right  floor,  and  they  were  soon  at  the  door  of  the  room 
taken  by  the  professor  and  Hans. 

Hans  flung  open  the  door,  bursting  into  the  room  like 
a  cyclone,  as  he  shouted : 

"Brofessor !  brofessor !  uf  dot  Vrankie  Merrivell  don'd 
peen  here  alretty  yet !" 

Frank  followed  closely  behind  Hans,  crying : 

"All  on  deck  and  ready  for  action,  professor!" 

Professor  Scotch  was  so  astonished  that  he  came  near 
falling  off  his  chair  to  the  floor. 

"Eh  ?  Bless  my  soul !"  he  exclaimed,  staring  at  Frank, 
and  dropping  the  guide  to  New  York  City,  which  he  had 
been  reading.  "Bless  my  soul !"  he  repeated,  as  he  tried 
to  get  on  his  feet,  but  fell  back  limply  in  his  chair.  "Is  it 
really  you?" 

"Sure  as  you're  alive!"  was  Frank's  hearty  assertion, 
as  he  grasped  the  little  man's  hand,  giving  it  a  terrific 
squeeze,  which  brought  a  smothered  roar  of  pain  from  the 
little  man's  lips. 

"Then  you  changed  your  mind?"  said  the  professor. 

"Changed  my  mind?     In  what  way?" 

"You  came  a  day  ahead  of  the  time  you  finally  decided 
on." 

"Not  much.     This  is  the  day  we  agreed  on,  and  I  ar- 


24  The  Bogus  Telegram. 

rived  at  the  Grand  Central  just  when  I  said  I  would, 
Why  weren't  you  on  hand  to  meet  me?" 

"Got  your  telegram  at  one-thirty  this  afternoon." 
"My  telegram  ?" 

"Exactly.     The  telegram  stating  you  could  not  come 
until    to-morrow.     I    have    it    here    somewhere.     Had 
barely  arrived  and  settled  here  before  the  telegram  was 
delivered.     Wondered  how  you  knew  I  meant  to  stop 
at  this  hotel,  as  we  had  made  no  decision  on  that  matter." 
Frank's  face  was  decidedly  sober,  as  he  said : 
"Professor,  I  want  to  see  that  telegram." 
The  little  man  of  the  fiery  hair  and  big  voice  bustled 
around   excitedly   till   he   found   a  Western   Union   en- 
velope, from  which  he  extracted  the  telegram  in  question, 
and  gave  to  Frank.     It  was  a  regular  Western  Union 
telegraph  blank,  on  which  was  written : 

"PROFESSOR  H.  O.  T.  SCOTCH, 
"Fifth  Avenue  Hotel, 

New  York.  City : 

"Business  prevents  coming  to-day.  Will  be  on  hand 
to-morrow  at  same  hour.  Meet  me  then. 

"FRANK  MERRIWELL." 

"This  telegram  is  a  fake,"  declared  Frank. 

"What's  that?"  ejaculated  the  professor.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  did  not  send  it?" 

"That  is  just  what  I  mean." 

"But,  see,  it  is  postmarked  Bloomfield,  and  it  seems 
regular  enough." 

"I  see  that,  but  it  is  none  the  less  a  fake  and  a  fraud. 
It  was  gotten  up  to  deceive  you  and  keep  you  from 
meeting  me  at  the  Grand  Central  Station.  As  you  said, 
how  did  I  know  you  meant  to  stop  at  this  hotel  ?" 

Professor  Scotch  began  to  prance  wildly  up  and  down 
the  carpeted  floor. 

"If  this  was  intended  for  a  joke,"  he  thundered,  wildly 
waving  his  clinched  fists  in  the  air;  "all  I  have  to  say  is 
that  it's  a  very  poor  joke!" 

"But  it  was  not  intended  for  a  joke,"  declared  Frank. 

The  professor  stopped  short,  and  stared  at  the  lac*- 


The  Bogus  Telegram.  25 

"No  joke?  No  joke?  Then  what  does  it  mean?  Can 
you  tell  me  that?  Will  you  tell  me  that?" 

"I  can  and  will.  This  was  the  work  of  a  deadly  foe 
to  me." 

"What?    How?    Who?" 

"That  is  more  than  I  can  answer,  but  I  mean  to  learn 
the  truth,  if  possible.  I  have  lately  had  a  very  narrow 
escape  from  the  hands  of  that  foe." 

"Shimminy  Gristmas!"  gurgled  Hans.  "I  don'd  toldt 
you  so !" 

"This  fake  telegram,"  explained  Frank,  "was  intended 
to  keep  you  from  meeting  me  at  the  station,  and  it 
succeeded ;  but  I  was  met  there,  just  the  same." 

"By  whom?"  breathlessly  asked  the  professor. 

"By  my  mysterious  enemy." 

Then  Frank  explained  how  he  had  been  ensnared,  and 
how,  by  means  of  an  accident,  he  had  been  saved  from 
the  dastardly  clutch  of  his  unknown  enemy. 

The  man  and  boy  listened  in  amazement  and  horror. 
When  he  had  heard  the  whole  story,  Professor  Scotch 
collapsed  on  a  chair. 

"Why,  who  can  this  enemy  be?"  he  asked,  after  some 
moments,  which  Frank  spent  in  studying  the  bogus  tele- 
gram. "Who  could  have  put  themselves  to  so  much 
trouble?  It  must  be  somebody  who  knows  me — some- 
body who  followed  me  here  to  this  hotel." 

"Exactly  so,"  nodded  Frank;  "but  who  it  is  you  have 
just  as  good  an  idea  as  I.  I  did  have  a  deadly  enemy, 
but  he  perished  in  the  fire  at  Fardale  several  weeks  ago." 
he  continued,  referring  to  Carlos  Merriwell,  the  pretended 
son  of  his  dead  uncle,  Asher.  "When  I  left  the  acad- 
emy, I  did  not  believe  I  had  anywhere  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  a  foe  who  desired  my  life;  but  it  seems  that  I  was 
mistaken.  I  have  such  a  foe,  and  I  feel  that  I  must  be 
constantly  on  my  guard  against  him." 


CHAPTER  V. 

HANS   AT   THE   THEATER. 

Taking  everything  into  consideration,  Frank  felt  that 
he  had  cause  to  be  decidedly  thankful  for  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  come  through  his  encounter  with  an  un- 
known and  deadly  foe,  and  had  afterward  found  his  way 
directly  to  the  professor  and  Hans. 

For  a  long  time  the  three  continued  to  talk  of  Frank's 
surprising  and  mysterious  adventure. 

At  length,  wishing  to  attend  some  place  of  amuse- 
ment that  evening,  they  prepared  for  dinner,  and  des- 
cended to  the  dining-room. 

Before  sitting  down,  however,  Frank  registered  and 
gave  his  trunk-check  to  a  porter,  who  agreed  to  see  that 
the  trunk  was  brought  from  the  station  without  delay. 

The  dining-room  was  a  wonder  to  Hans,  who  had 
never  seen  anything  like  it  before.  All  he  could  do  was 
to  faintly  gurgle : 

"Shimminy  Gristmas !" 

But  Hans'  table  manners  had  been  looked  after  at  Far- 
dale,  so,  as  long  as  he  refrained  from  talking,  he  did  not 
draw  the  attention  of  the  other  guests. 

Frank  and  the  professor  quietly  discussed  their  plans 
while  eating,  but  the  Dutch  boy  heard  scarcely  a  word 
they  were  saying,  he  was  so  absorbed  in  staring  about 
him.  Midway  vduring  the  meal,  Hans  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  lean  across  the  table  and  hoarsely  whisper: 

"Brofessor !  brofessor !  uf  dis  don'd  peat  der  pand,  al- 
retty!" 

From  that  time  till  the  meal  was  finished,  it  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  Frank  and  the  professor  forced 
the  Dutch  boy  to  keep  his  enthusiasm  bottled  up.  They 
could  see  he  was  ready  to  explode,  and  they  knew  he 
was  liable  to  create  a  sensation  if  he  did  so  in  the  dining- 
room. 

As  they  left  the  dining-room,  Hans  flung  his  arms 


Hans  at  the  Theater.  27 

around  the  professor,  giving  the  little  man  a  bear-hug 
that  brought  a  cry  of  astonishment  and  alarm  from 
Scotch's  lips. 

"Here!  here!  break  away!"  laughed  Frank,  catching 
Hans  by  the  collar.  "What's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"Veil,  I  feel  so  goot  as  nefer  vas,  und  I  don'd  know  vot 
to  do  mit  yourself." 

"Keep  cool  till  we  reach  our  room,  or  we  are  liable  to 
be  turned  out  of  the  hotel,  or  taken  to  Ward's  Island  for 
lunatics." 

"I  don'd  toldt  you  so!"  exclaimed  Hans,  in  alarm. 
"Veil,  I  don'd  like  dot  pern'  took  some  lunadic  vor,  und 
so  I  vill  keep  sdill,  ain'd  id?" 

But  when  they  were  safely  in  their  rooms  he  broke 
loose,  catching  the  professor  about  the  waist  and  waltz- 
ing the  little  man  about  till  his  head  swam. 

"Uf  we  don'd  haf  some  fun  dis  excursion  on,  you  peen 
misdaken !"  he  warbled. 

Then  he  let  go  of  the  professor,  who  was  sent  spin- 
ning into  a  corner,  where  he  ran  his  nose  against  the  wall, 
recoiled  from  the  shock,  and  sat  down  heavily  on  the 
floor. 

"Vot's  der  madder,  brofessor?"  asked  Hans,  inno- 
cently. "You  hope  I  ain'd  peen  drinkin',  don'd  id?" 

"Look  here,  confound  you!"  roared  Scotch,  as  he 
scrambled  to  his  feet,  clinging  to  his  nose  with  one  hand 
and  feeling  blindly  for  Hans  with  the  other ;  "you're  get- 
ting altogether  too  familiar  with  me — altogether  too 
familiar!  What  you  need  is  a  thumping,  and  I'm  feel- 
ing just  like  giving  you  that !" 

He  was  still  dazed  and  bewildered  by  the  whirling 
Hans  had  given  him,  and  he  lurched  forward  toward  a 
figure  that  seemed  lurching  to  meet  him.  He  put  out 
his  hands  to  grapple  with  this  figure,  and,  at  that  mo- 
ment, Frank  Merriwell  caught  him  by  the  collar,  saying 
sharply : 

"Steady — steady,  professor!  I  noticed  you  took  a 
bottle  of  wine  at  dinner,  but  I  didn't  think  it  was  enough 
to  make  you  feel  like  running  through  full  length 
mirrors. 

Then  the  staring  professor  saw  that  the  figure  he  had 


28  Hans  at  the  Theater. 

been  on  the  point  of  grapling  was  his  own  reflection  in 
a  mirror. 

Hans  was  sitting  on  a  chair,  grinning  in  a  jolly  way. 

"That  whirling  rather  stirred  me  up,"  confessed  the 
professor.  "That  seemed  to  make  every  bit  of  the  wine 
fly  into  the  top  of  my  head.  I  think  I'd  better  take  a 
stroll  in  the  open  air." 

"Wait  a  few  moments,  and  we'll  all  go." 

"Yah.  We'll  go  along  to  see  dot  you  don'd  took  no 
more  vine,  py  shimminy !" 

So  Frank  and  Hans  prepared  for  the  street,  while  the 
professor  bathed  his  nose  in  some  cool  water. 

At  length  all  were  ready  to  go  out,  and  they  descended 
to  the  first  floor,  where,  arm  in  arm,  the  professor  and 
Hans  marched  down  the  long  corridor,  with  Frank  fol- 
lowing, and  observing  that  the  little  man  and  the  fat 
Dutch  lad  were  regarded  with  amusement  by  the  men 
who  were  moving,  standing,  or  lounging  about. 

It  was  an  unusually  warm  evening  for  the  season,  so 
warm,  in  fact,  that  top  coats  were  not  required. 

Broadway  was  thronged  with  people,  and  Hans  mut- 
tered : 

"I  don'd  see  how  in  plazes  they  all  ged  along  midoucit 
running  somepody  indo  all  der  dimes." 

The  lights  of  Madison  Square  Garden  tower  gleamed 
high  in  the  sky,  and  to  the  north  other  lights  spelled  out 
in  giant  letters  the  name  of  a  brand  of  cigarettes.  Per- 
sons were  weaving  to  and  fro  beneath  the  trees  in  the 
square,  or  were  lounging  on  the  benches.  The  gongs  on 
the  cable  cars  were  clanging  their  warnings  to  pedes- 
trians and  teams,  and  the  hum  and  roar  that  arose  on 
every  hand  told  that  they  were  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
metropolis. 

"Which  way?"  asked  Frank. 

"We'll  take  a  stroll  down  Broadway,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor. 

They  had  some  trouble  in  running  the  blockade  of  cars, 
trucks,  carriages  and  so  forth  at  Twenty-third  street. 
After  trying  to  get  over  three  times,  and  being  howled  at 
by  car  drivers  and  teamsters,  Hans  was  so  frightened 
that  Frank  and  the  professor  were  obliged  to  drag  him 
across. 


Hans  at  the  Theater.  29 

Having  reached  the  other  side,  the  Dutch  boy  paused 
to  wipe  the  cold  sweat  from  his  face  and  observe : 

"We  don'd  nefer  been  aple  to  ged  back  to  dot  hotel 
some  more!" 

"I  don't  know  as  we  will,  if  we  have  to  get  you  across," 
laughed  Frank. 

They  continued  their  walk  down  Broadway  to  Four- 
teenth street,  where  they  asked  a  policeman  about  the 
theatres,  and  he  directed  them  to  the  Fourteenth  Street 
Theatre,  where  he  said  there  was  a  "great  show  going 
on." 

Hans  had  never  been  in  a  theatre  in  his  life,  and  nearly 
all  he  knew  about  it  was  what  Ephraim  Gallup,  a  coun- 
try boy,  who  had  attended  Fardale,  had  told  him. 
Ephraim  had  visited  a  theatre  once,  and  he  said : 

"I  bought  a  piece  of  pasteboard  of  a  man  they  hed  shut 
up  in  some  kind  of  a  cubby-hole,  so  he  didn't  have 
northing  but  a  little  fut-square  winder  ter  look  out  of, 
and  then  I  went  right  in.  Feller  at  the  door  grabbed 
holt  of  me,  an'  he  says,  says  he:  'I  want  your  ticket.' 
Says  I  to  him,  says  I :  'I  bought  this  air  ticket  an'  paid 
fer  it,  an'  you  can't  take  it  away  from  me  unless  you're 
bigger'n  I  be,  b'gum !'  Then  I  jest  spit  right  slap  on 
my  hands,  and  I  told  him  to  wade  right  in.  But  he 
talked  kinder  peaceable  like,  an'  seemed  like  a  decent  sort 
of  feller  arter  all,  so,  kinder  thinkin'  he  might  be  needful, 
I  let  him  tear  my  ticket  in  two,  an'  keep  half  of  it  fer 
himself.  They  let  me  in  on  t'other  half,  but  a  boy  tried 
to  git  that  away  from  me.  I  wouldn't  give  it  up,  an'  so, 
seein'  he  couldn't  work  the  bunkum  racket  on  me,  he 
looked  it  over  some,  an'  showed  me  where  I  was  to  set 
down.  I  sot,  an'  people  kept  comin'  in  till  the  seats  was 
purty  nigh  full.  Then  some  fellers  down  in  front  that 
had  fiddles  an'  brass  horns,  they  played  something.  I 
kinder  reckoned  it  was  to  call  attention  to  the  big  picter 
that  kivered  the  hull  of  one  end  of  the  room.  That  was 
a  purty  good  picter,  but  I  didn't  think  it  wus  worth  pay- 
ing fifty  cents  to  see,  by  gum !  Arter  them  fellers  stopped 
playin',  somebody  pulled  the  picter  up  out  of  the  way,  an* 
then  some  folks  kem  out  on  a  platform,  an'  went  to  talkin' 
'bout  somethin'  that  didn't  consarn  me  nohow,  so  I  got  up 
an'  come  away." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A      FRIGHTFUL      PERIL. 

This  story  of  Ephraim's  visit  to  a  theatre  had  been  re- 
peated at  Fardale  till  every  lad  in  the  academy  was  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  it,  and  every  one  but  Hans  Dun- 
nerwust  had  laughed  over  it.  Hans  listened  to  it  re- 
peatedly, with  mouth  and  ears  wide  open,  but  he  was 
unable  to  discover  where  the  joke  came  in.  However, 
it  had  aroused  his  curiosity,  so  he  was  more  than  eager 
to  visit  a  theatre. 

They  found  the  Fourteenth  Street  Theatre  without 
trouble,  and  the  professor  bought  tickets  for  them  all. 

Their  seats  were  in  a  very  good  location,  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  to  the  front. 

Hans  looked  around  with  interest,  and  he  stared  at  the 
picture  on  the  curtain  in  a  way  that  plainly  showed  he 
meant  to  get  his  money's  worth. 

After  a  short  time  the  orchestra  played  a  piece,  and  the 
curtain  slid  up. 

As  soon  as  this  happened,  Hans  rose  and  was  going  to 
leave. 

Frank  and  the  professor  found  it  difficult  to  induce 
the  Dutch  boy  to  remain. 

Finally  Hans  sat  down  and  watched  the  performance, 
although  he  seemed  to  take  little  interest  in  it  at  first. 

It  was  a  razzle-dazzle  sort  of  a  melodrama,  however, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  the  Dutch  boy  began  to  get  ex- 
cited. 

"Say,"  he  whispered  to  Frank,  "vy  don'd  dey  stop  dot 
veller  from  dot  girl  chasin'  aroundt,  ain'd  id?  I  don'd 
like  dot  veller.  He  peen  a  scondrel,  you  pet  me  your 
boots !" 

"Keep  still,"  warned  Frank.  "Watch  the  play  and  say 
nothing." 

"Veil,  uf  I  ain'd  surbrised  in  you!"  muttered  Hans. 


A  Frightful  Peril.  31 

"Dot  peen  der  first  time  I  efer  know  you  not  to  sdand  ub 
vor  der  girls !" 

He  relapsed  into  silence,  but  not  for  long.  The  villain 
of  the  play  had  pursued  the  heroine  out  on  Brooklyn 
Bridge,  where  he  grappled  with  her,  and  started  to  fling 
her  from  the  bridge  into  the  river,  whereupon  she  cried: 

"Help !  help !  Will  no  one  save  me  from  this 
wretch  ?" 

That  was  more  than  Hans  could  stand. 

"You  pet  your  poots  !"  he  shouted,  as  he  jumped  up  and 
jerked  off  his  coat.  "I  peen  there  britty  queek  alretty, 
und  I  knock  der  backin'  uf  dot  veller  oudt!" 

Down  the  aisle  he  rushed,  before  Frank  could  get  hold 
of  him,  and  he  seemed  determined  to  scramble  over  the 
orchestra  to  the  stage.  He  might  have  succeeded,  but 
two  ushers  rushed  forward  and  clutched  him,  holding 
him  back. 

"Shimminy  Gristmas !"  howled  the  Dutch  lad.  "Vot 
kindt  uf  a  crowd  this  peen,  ain'd  id  ?  Vos  you  all  going 
to  sed  still  und  let  dot  villain  kildt  dot  girl  ?" 

The  audience  was  convulsed  with  laughter  as  Hans  was 
hustled  up  the  aisle  by  the  ushers. 

"Come,  professor,"  said  Frank,  hurriedly  catching  up 
Hans'  coat.  "We  must  get  him  out  of  that  before  they 
hand  him  over  to  a  policeman." 

So  they  hustled  out  of  the  theatre,  and  found  the 
ushers  on  the  point  of  delivering  the  Dutch  boy  to  an 
officer.  Frank  immediately  protested,  and,  by  giving  the 
ushers  half  a  dollar  each  and  the  policeman  a  small  bill  on 
the  sly,  he  succeeded  in  getting  Hans  away. 

"Veil,"  observed  Hans,  as  they  found  themselves  again 
on  the  street,  "uf  dot  don'd  peat  anydings  I  efer  saw  pe- 
fore,  you  vos  a  liar !" 

"You  came  near  spending  the  night  in  a  station  house," 
Frank  sharply  declared.  "Why  did  you  make  a  fool  of 
yourself?" 

"I  don'd  peen  retty  to  sed  sdill  und  see  any  female  girl 
throwed  a  pridge  off  py  a  pig  rascal  mit  a  plack  mustache 
und  a  red  neckdie  on,  dot's  vot's  der  madder  mit  me." 

Hans  was  still  rather  excited,  and  Frank  found  it  expe- 
dient to  calm  him  down. 

As  it  was  yet  early  in  the  evening,  and  they  did  not  wish 


32  A  Frightful  Peril. 

to  retire  to  the  hotel,  it  was  decided  that  they  should  take 
a  ride  on  the  elevated  railroad. 

Hans  was  rather  reluctant  about  doing  anything  of  the 
sort,  fearing  the  trestle  might  break  and  let  them  come 
crashing  down  to  the  street;  but  he  was  finally  induced 
to  accompany  them  up  the  stairs  to  the  station,  and  they 
coaxed  him  onto  the  first  train  that  came  along. 

This  was  a  Harlem-bound  train,  and  seats  were  secured 
midway  of  the  car  which  they  entered. 

Hans  held  onto  the  seat,  his  face  being  very  pale. 

Professor  Scotch  was  not  a  little  nervous,  although  he 
tried  to  conceal  the  fact. 

For  them  all  it  was  a  novel  ride,  but  Frank  enjoyed  it 
the  most,  as  his  companions  provided  great  amusement 
for  him. 

It  was  decided  that  they  should  ride  to  the  termination 
of  the  elevated  road  in  Harlem,  and  then  come  back. 

The  curves  at  Fifty-third  street  were  almost  too  much 
for  the  nerves  of  Professor  Scotch,  who  wanted  to  get  off 
at  the  Fifty-ninth  street  station  and  walk  back. 

Hans,  however,  declared  that,  as  they  had  started  in 
to  have  some  fun  with  him,  he  was  going  to  stay  on  the 
train  and  see  the  thing  through.  He  was  beginning  to 
derive  some  enjoyment  from  the  professor's  discomfiture. 

When  the  great  S  at  One  Hundred  and  Tenth  street 
was  reached,  and  the  professor  found  they  were  spinning 
along  far  above  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  Hans  was  given 
a  chance  to  enjoy  the  terror  shown  by  a  very  fright- 
ened man. 

"This  is  dud-dud-dreadful!"  chattered  the  professor, 
as  the  engine  spun  the  long  train  round  the  curve  and  the 
cars  lurched  far  over.  "We're  going  off  the  track  sure !" 

"Yah!"  snorted  Hans.  "Now  you  peen  britty  scat, 
lin'd  id  ?  Now  you  don'd  haf  some  fun  mit  me,  I  pelief." 

"There  should  be  a  law  to  restrict  the  speed  of  this 
train!"  gurgled  Scotch.  "This  is  terrible!  Where  is 
Frank?" 

But  Frank,  determined  to  have  an  unobstructed  view, 
had  stepped  out  on  the  platform  of  the  car.  As  he  did 
so,  he  noticed  a  man  who  was  standing  with  his  back  to 
the  car,  having  the  brim  of  his  hat  slouched  over  his 
eyes. 


A  Frightful  Peril.  33 

Frank  did  not  give  this  man  more  than  a  glance,  but 
turned  to  look  over  the  fields  of  lights  which  twinkled  be- 
low. 

To  one  not  familiar  with  the  situation  it  was  decidedly 
novel  and  fascinating,  and  it  was  not  strange  that  Frank's 
blood  tingled  in  his  veins. 

The  guard  had  stepped  into  the  rear  car,  and  the  boy 
and  the  strange  man  were  alone  on  the  platform. 

The  train  struck  the  upper  curve  of  the  S,  and  Frank 
leaned  over  the  iron  gate  to  look  down.  It  was  a  fearful 
distance  to  the  ground  below,  and  the  lad  shuddered  as 
he  thought  of  falling  from  that  position. 

"Such  a  fall  would  mean  instant  death,"  he  muttered, 
aloud. 

Then  he  felt  himself  clutched  behind,  and  in  his  ear 
these  words  were  hissed : 

"You  are  right,  Frank  Merriwell,  and  down  you  go!" 

He  recognized  that  sibilant  voice;  he  had  heard  it  be- 
fore. It  was  the  voice  of  his  unknown  foe ! 

The  man  lifted  Frank  to  hurl  him  over  the  gate.  But 
Frank  was  not  the  sort  of  a  boy  to  give  up  tamely  with- 
out a  struggle. 

He  clutched  at  the  gate,  and  he  fiercely  strove  to  break 
the  hold  of  his  foe. 

Then  Frank  found  his  tongue,  and  he  cried  for  aid,  but 
the  creaking  of  the  iron  wheels  as  they  wore  harshly 
around  the  curve  drowned  the  sound  of  his  cry. 

He  was  lifted  off  his  feet,  and,  despite  his  utmost  en- 
deavor, felt  himself  being  forced  over  the  gate. 

"It's  all  up  with  me!"  was  the  thought  that  flashed 
through  his  brain. 

Round  the  curve  the  car  was  dragged,  and  the  straight 
stretch  of  track  leading  to  the  station  at  One  Hundred 
and  Sixteenth  street  was  struck. 

'^Help !"  called  Frank. 

"Down  you  go!"  panted  the  man. 

Then  Frank  Merriwell  was  lifted  fairly  over  the  gate, 
on  which  his  hold  was  broken,  he  felt  himself  suspended 
in  the  air  for  an  instant.  The  horror  that  possessed  him 
seemed  to  cause  his  heart  to  stop  beating. 

"Nothing  can  save  me  now !" 

He  felt  that  it  was  useless  to  cry  for  help.     If  help 


34  A  Frightful  Peril. 

came,  the  man  would  realese  his  hold,  and  Frank  must 

fall. 

To  the  boy  it  seemed  that  he  was  suspended  thus  for 

hours,  and  he  believed  the  man  was  gloating  over  the 

agony  thus  inflicted. 

"Good-by,  Frank  Merriwell!" 

The  man  released  his  hold,  and  Frank  fell ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

STRUCK  DOWN. 

In  that  moment  when  the  hands  of  his  deadly  foe  re- 
leased their  hold  upon  him,  Frank  fancied  he  heard  a 
hoarse  shout,  as  if  some  one  had  discovered  what  was 
taking  place  on  the  platform  of  the  car. 

But  the  discovery  had  been  made  too  late. 

Like  a  rock,  Frank  fell  toward  the  street. 

In  falling  his  hands  were  outstretched  to  clutch  some- 
thing— anything. 

He  fell  about  five  feet! 

Along  the  side  of  the  trestle-work  were  stretched  sev- 
eral telegraph  wires,  and  the  boy  struck  on  them,  clutched 
them,  clung  there ! 

The  spring  of  the  wires  would  have  flung  him  off  had 
he  not  caught  hold  of  them  with  his  hands  and  clung  fast 
for  his  very  life. 

He  succeeded  in  holding  on,  and  he  was  saved  from  a 
frightful  fall  and  instant  death. 

But  Frank  was  so  dazed  that  he  could  do  nothing  but 
cling  to  the  wires,  on  which  he  rested,  staring  after  the 
lighted  train,  which  was  drawing  up  at  the  station  above. 

He  felt  weak  and  cold,  and  he  began  to  fear  that  his 
strength  would  desert  him  and  he  would  slip  from  the 
wires. 

He  looked  down  upon  the  great  field  of  lights  which 
stretched  away  to  Fifth  avenue  across  the  vacant  lots  to 
the  north  of  Central  Park,  and  they  seemed  like  a  thou- 
sand demon  eyes  winking  and  blinking  at  him.  Some- 
how they  hypnotized  him,  and  he  fancied  they  were 
drawing  him  from  the  wires,  as  if  they  were  so  many 
loadstones. 

"Stop !  stop !"  he  gasped.  "I  shall  fall  in  a  moment ! 
My  strength — my  strength  is  deserting  me!" 

Then  he  tore  his  gaze  from  those  blinking  demon  eyes, 


36  Struck  Down. 

looking  again  toward  the  train,  which  had  stopped  at  the 
station. 

"I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars  to  know  who  this  enemy 
of  mine  is !" 

Then  the  thought  that  his  deadly  foe  might  be  stepping 
from  that  train  at  that  very  moment  seemed  to  give  him 
new  strength.  Courage  came  back  with  a  rush.  His 
life  had  been  spared  in  a  marvelous  manner.  Providence 
was  with  him,  but  he  must  keep  a  stout  heart. 

"If  I  can  get  upon  the  trestle  without  falling,  I'm  all 
right." 

The  wires  had  sagged  beneath  his  weight  so  he  was 
at  least  two  feet  below  the  level  of  the  trestle. 

Now,  without  looking  down  again,  he  carefully  reached 
up  with  one  hand  and  obtained  a  firm  hold  on  the  wood- 
work of  the  trestle.  When  he  had  done  this,  he  let  go  of 
the  wire  to  which  he  had  clung  with  the  other  hand,  and, 
a  moment  later,  both  hands  were  fastened  on  the  trestle. 

As  has  been  said,  Frank  was  the  champion  all-around 
athlete  at  Fardale  Academy,  and  now  his  strength  and 
skill  stood  him  in  good  stead.  Slowly  and  surely,  he 
drew  himself  up  till  his  knees  rested  on  the  wires,  and 
then  it  was  not  such  a  difficult  task  to  get  upon  the  trestle. 

Even  then  Frank  would  have  been  overcome  by  the  re- 
action of  his  feelings,  but  he  realized  his  danger  as  he 
found  a  sort  of  giddiness  and  faintness  was  coming  over 
him.  He  was  tempted  to  lie  down  and  rest  on  the  board- 
walk beside  the  track,  but  the  hope  of  overtaking  his  as- 
sailant in  some  way  kept  him  from  doing  so. 

"Courage — strength!"  he  whispered,  as  he  turned 
toward  the  station. 

It  seemed  that  hours  had  passed  since  the  man  flung 
him  over  the  gate,  but  the  train  was  still  standing  at  the 
station,  and  he  understood  that  the  peril  through  which 
he  had  passed  had  deceived  him  in  regard  to  the  lapse 
of  time. 

He  longed  to  reach  the  station  and  intercept  his  enemy, 
but  the  train  began  to  pull  out  as  he  hurried  forward. 

The  station  at  One  Hundred  and  Sixteenth  street  is 
between  the  tracks,  and  the  ticket-chopper  and  ticket- 
seller  were  astonished  to  see  a  bare-headed,  pale-faced 


Struck  Down.  37 

boy  climb  to  the  platform  from  the  tracks  and  rush  past 
them  on  his  way  downstairs. 

As  Frank  reached  the  station,  he  had  seen  in  the  lighted 
street  beneath  a  man  who  wore  a  hat  slouched  over  his 
eyes  exactly  the  same  as  had  the  man  who  assailed  him  on 
the  train. 

•  The  boy  resolved  to  have  a  look  at  this  man's  face,  and 
he  lost  not  a  moment  in  rushing  down  the  long  flight  oi 
stairs,  the  elevator  in  use  at  that  station  being  too  slow 
for  him  just  then. 

Reaching  the  sidewalk,  he  looked  about  for  the  man, 
who  seemed  to  have  vanished. 

Frank  hurried  to  the  corner  and  looked  along  One 
Hundred  and  Sixteenth  street  toward  Seventh  avenue. 

An  exclamation  of  satisfaction  fell  from  his  lips,  for  he 
saw  the  man  walking  rapidly  to  the  east. 

"You're  the  chap  I'm  after !"  muttered  the  boy,  as  he 
started  to  follow  the  man.  "I  am  going  to  have  a  square 
look  at  your  face." 

But  Frank  had  been  deceived  by  a  resemblance,  which 
is  not  strange,  as  he  had  given  the  man  on  the  platform 
of  the  car  no  more  than  a  glance,  and  had  simply  noted 
that  he  wore  a  hat  with  the  brim  slouched  over  his  eyes. 

At  the  moment  that  Frank  started  in  pursuit  of  the  man 
who  was  walking  toward  Seventh  avenue,  another  man, 
who  was  excitedly  puffing  at  a  freshly  lighted  cigar,  came 
out  of  the  elevator  building. 

.  The  cigar  dropped  from  the  man's  lips,  and  he  reeled 
as  if  he  had  been  struck  a  blow  in  the  face. 

"Heaven  above!"  he  gasped.     "Can  it  be  possible?" 

The  boy  did  not  see  him. 

Panting  with  excitement,  his  face  ghastly  pale,  the  man 
darted  to  the  corner  and  stared  after  Frank  Merriwell. 

"I  can't  be  deceived !"  he  muttered,  hoarsely,  "and  yet — 
and  yet  it  is  impossible !  He  could  not  fall  that  distance 
and  not  be  instantly  killed !  I  am  dreaming !  I  have 
been  fooled  by  a  resemblance !" 

There  was  a  long,  livid  scar  running  down  the  man's 
left  cheek,  and  it  seemed  to  change  color  with  his  shifting 
emotions. 

Like  a  wolf,  he  started  after  the  boy,  lopping  the  brim 
if  his  hat  still  further  over  his  eyes. 


38  Struck  Down. 

Frank  little  dreamed  that  he  was  being  shadowed,  and 
there  was  small  chance  that  he  would  discover  it,  as  he 
was  giving  his  entire  attention  to  the  task  of  following 
the  man  in  advance. 

There  were  few  pedestrians  on  that  particular  street 
at  that  hour,  but  those  who  were  passing  along  stared 
curiously  at  the  bare-headed  lad. 

Frank  did  not  mind  that  he  was  attracting  attention, 
for  he  was  not  aware  that  he  had  lost  his  hat. 

Little  by  little  the  boy  drew  nearer  to  the  man  in  ad- 
vance. They  crossed  Seventh  avenue  and  continued  on 
toward  the  east. 

Frank  made  his  plans  to  overtake  the  man  at  the  corner 
of  Lenox  avenue,  where  there  was  a  strong  light. 

"I'll  have  a  look  at  his  face,  anyway !"  the  boy  muttered. 

He  hastened  forward,  passed  the  man,  whirled  about 
and  they  met  fairly  beneath  the  street  lamp. 

"Excuse  me!"  exclaimed  Frank,  as  he  snatched  the 
hat  from  the  man's  head,  much  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  latter. 

To  Frank's  disappointment,  the  face  was  that  of  a  man 
he  had  never  before  seen. 

The  man  gave  an  angry  and  astonished  exclamation, 
and  made  a  dash  for  the  boy. 

"You  young  scoundrel!"  he  cried,  madly.  "What  do 
you  mean?" 

Skipping  lightly  aside,  Frank  replied : 

"Oh,  nothing;  I  simply  wanted  to  get  a  good  look  at 
your  face.  Didn't  know  but  you  were  a  particular  friend 
of  mine,  but  I  see  I  have  made  a  mistake.  Beg  your 
pardon.  Here's  your  hat.  Catch!" 

He  tossed  the  hat,  and  the  man  caught  it,  growling : 

"If  I  could  get  my  hands  on  you " 

"But  you  can't,  don't  you  see,"  was  the  aggravating 
assertion.  "And  I've  got  your  face  photographed  in  my 
mind.  Don't  know  as  we  ever  met  before,  but  I'll  know 
you  if  we  ever  meet  again.  That's  all.  So  long !" 

The  lad  skipped  lightly  away  toward  Seventh  avenue, 
leaving  the  man  to  stare  a  moment  and  mutter: 

"That  was  strange — mighty  strange !  Hanged  if  I 
understand  what  it  meant!  He  didn't  seem  like  a  young 


Struck  Down.  39 

rowdy,  but  I  can't  understand  what  sort  of  a  game  he 
was  playing." 

However,  he  had  recovered  his  hat,  and  so  he  moved 
on  again,  glancing  back  occasionally  to  see  if  he  were 
followed. 

But  Frank  had  no  thought  of  following  the  man  fur- 
ther. He  had  obtained  a  fair  view  of  the  face  hidden  by 
the  lopping  brim  of  the  hat,  and  it  had  proved  a  disap- 
pointment, for  the  man  was  an  utter  stranger.  More 
than  that,  the  voice  had  not  sounded  like  that  of  Frank's 
mysterious  foe. 

"Don't  believe  that  was  the  man,"  muttered  the  boy, 
as  he  swiftly  retraced  his  steps.  "Right  one  got  away, 
and  I've  lost  Hans  and  the  professor.  All  I  can  do  is 
go  back  to  the  hotel  and  wait  for  them." 

The  street  was  deserted,  and  there  were  long,  dark 
places  between  the  lights.  It  was  in  one  of  these  dark 
spots  that  a  man  crouched  in  an  angle  of  the  board 
fence  that  ran  along  there.  He  was  awaiting  the  ap- 
proach of  the  boy,  and  he  held  something  gripped  tightly 
in  his  hand. 

Frank  did  not  see  this  man  till  he  was  passing  that  very 
spot.  Then  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  figure  that  leaped 
toward  him.  He  had  no  time  to  defend  himself,  but  he 
threw  up  one  arm  to  ward  off  the  blow  which  he  saw 
descending. 

The  attempt  to  avert  the  blow  was  vain.  He  was 
:  struck  on  the  head  by  some  heavy  instrument  that  felled 
'him  unconscious  to  the  sidewalk. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  CAPTIVE. 

"What  happened  ?  Did  a  building  fall  on  my  head — oD 
what?" 

Frank  Merriwell  sat  up.  As  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  sav- 
age growl,  and  the  wretched  light  of  a  smoking  kerosene 
lamp  showed  him  a  huge  dog  that  was  standing  less  than 
six  feet  away.  The  reddish,  shifting  eyes  of  the  beast 
seemed  to  rove  all  over  Frank's  person. 

"Whew!"  breathed  the  boy,  in  utter  astonishment. 
"What's  this  mean  ?  Where  am  I,  anyway  ?" 

The  light  showed  him  that  he  was  in  a  wretched, 
hovel-like  room,  and  the  dog  was  between  him  and  the 
only  door  leading  from  the  place.  There  were  no  win- 
dows to  be  seen. 

The  boy's  head  was  throbbing  with  a  dull,  heavy  pain, 
but  this  did  not  prevent  him  from  feeling  astounded. 

He  tried  to  remember  what  had  happened,  and,  at  first, 
he  found  this  an  impossible  task. 

All  at  once  he  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  sank  back  on 
the  floor. 

"Merciful  goodness  !  I'm  falling !"  he  fluttered,  clutch- 
ing at  the  floor  with  his  hands.  "My  unknown  foe  has 
cast  me  from  the  train !  It  is  a  hundred  feet  to  the  street 
below!  I  shall  be  dashed  to  death!  Help!  Ah!  I 
have  struck  on  the  wires — I  am  clinging  to  them !  No,  I 
am  slipping  off!  Heaven  help  me  now!  I  must  reach 
the  trestle  before  consciousness  leaves  me !  Now — 
steady — up,  up,  up !  Ha !  I  have  a  hold  on  the  trestle — 
I  can  draw  myself  up!  Easy — slow  and  sure!  A  slip 
now  means  a  frightful  fall  to  certain  death !  Thank 
Heaven !  I  have  reached  the  trestle — I  am  saved !" 

The  blow  the  boy  had  received  seemed  to  have  brought 
on  something  like  delirium,  and  thus  he  lived  over  those 
minutes  of  horror  which  he  had  passed  through  on  the 
great  S  of  the  elevated  railroad. 


A  Captive.  41 

A  cold  perspiration  came  out  all  over  his  body,  and  he 
shook  in  every  limb. 

At  length  he  lifted  himself  again,  staring  wildly  about, 
a  bewildered  look  on  his  face. 

"I  seem  to  remember,"  he  muttered,  lifting  a  hand  to 
his  head.  "I  reached  the  station — hastened  to  the  street 
— thought  I  saw  the  man  who  flung  me  from  the  train. 
I  followed  him,  and  I  obtained  a  fair  look  at  his  face ;  but 
I  did  not  know  him,  and  then  I  turned  back.  What  hap- 
pened then?  It  seems  as  if  something  came  crashing 
on  my  head,  and  I  remember  no  more." 

The  dog  growled  and  moved  about  restlessly.  Frank 
could  see  that  the  eyes  of  the  creature  were  very  red,  and 
it  was  holding  its  mouth  open,  with  its  long,  red  tongue 
hanging  out.  Somehow,  the  aspect  of  the  beast  filled  the 
boy  with  a  feeling  of  horror,  and  he  involuntarily  drew 
back  a  bit,  which  caused  the  dog  to  growl  still  louder 
than  before. 

In  drawing  back,  Frank  came  against  the  partition  of 
the  room,  which  he  saw  was  very  small,  and  devoid  of 
furniture,  save  for  a  staggering,  old  table  that  stood  in 
one  corner. 

"It  must  be  that  I  am  a  captive  here,  and  that  dog  is 
on  guard  over  me,"  thought  Frank  Merriwell.  "I  cannot 
see  any  other  explanation." 

It  seemed  quite  probable  that  he  was  right. 

Feeling  of  his  head  in  a  tender  manner,  he  found  a 
swelled  lump  that  was  very  sensitive  to  the  touch  of  his 
fingers. 

"I  was  struck  down  by  some  sort  of  an  instrument,  and, 
as  it  did  not  cut  my  head,  it  must  have  been  a  sandbag. 
That  rendered  me  unconscious,  and  thus  I  remained  till 
I  was  brought  here  to  this  room.  But  who  did  the  job  ? 
That  is  the  question." 

The  more  Frank  thought  of  these  things  the  greater 
grew  his  bewilderment,  and  it  seemed  to  make  his  head 
throb  still  more  heavily  with  pain. 

That  the  dog  was  his  guard,  he  had  no  doubt,  but  he 
resolved  to  make  friends  with  the  creature,  if  possible.  In 
order  to  begin,  he  spoke  to  the  dog  in  a  soothing  way : 

"Good  dog!     Nice  old  fellow!" 


42  A  Captive. 

But  that  brought  a  growl  louder  and  fiercer  than  those 
heard  before. 

Still  Frank  continued  for  some  moments,  but,  as  a  re- 
sult, he  simply  succeeded  in  arousing  the  beast,  who  began 
to  move  about  in  front  of  the  door,  keeping  its  shifty  red 
eyes  roving  over  the  boy's  figure,  and  growling  fiercely. 

It  soon  became  plain  to  the  captive  lad  that  he  could  not 
make  friends  with  the  dog,  and  he  gave  up  the  attempt, 
feeling  that  he  was  in  a  decidedly  awkward  scrape. 
Whenever  he  moved  the  dog  set  up  such  a  snapping  and 
growling  that  he  became  alarmed  and  sat  still. 

"By  Jove !  this  is  not  at  all  to  my  taste,"  thought  Frank. 
"What  if  that  beast  takes  a  fancy  to  make  a  meal  off  me ! 
He  can  chew  me  up  at  his  pleasure." 

The  captive  began  to  feel  in  his  pockets.  He  found 
they  had  been  searched  by  his  captors,  but,  in  one  of  his 
hip  pockets,  a  small  knife  had  been  overlooked.  This  he 
took  out  and  opened,  thinking : 

"I  will  have  some  kind  of  a  weapon  to  defend  myself 
with  if  the  beast  attacks  me." 

Barely  had  he  done  this  when  he  heard  heavy  footsteps 
beyond  the  door.  The  steps  were  approaching. 

"Some  one  coming  to  make  an  inspection,"  flashed 
through  the  boy's  head.  "Possibly  it  is  this  mysterious 
foe  of  mine,  and  I  may  be  able  to  get  a  square  look  at  his 
face  if  I  play  'possum.  'Possum  it  is,  then." 

He  quickly  stretched  himself  on  the  floor,  with  his  face 
turned  toward  the  door,  and  his  eyes  nearly  closed,  but 
open  just  enough  to  permit  him  to  gaze  through  the  lashes. 

The  dog  whined  as  the  steps  came  nearer.  Plainly  the 
animal  recognized  the  sounds  as  familiar.  He  sniffed  at 
the  crack  of  the  door,  and  wagged  his  tail  a  little.  Till 
that  moment  Frank  had  not  realized  what  a  huge  beast  the 
dog  was;  but  now  he  saw  that  the  creature  was  large 
enough  to  drag  down  an  ox. 

There  was  a  rattling  sound  outside  the  door,  and  then 
an  opening  about  a  foot  square  appeared  midway  near  the 
top. 

At  the  opening  appeared  the  face  of  a  man,  who  looked 
into  the  room. 

That  face  was  a  disappointment  to  Frank  Merriwell. 

It  was  the  face  of  a  ruffian,  unshaved,  and  covered 


A  Captive.  43 

nearly  to  the  eyes  by  a  reddish  beard — a  face  that  Frank 
Merriwell  had  never  before  looked  on. 

The  dog  stood  up  on  its  hind  legs,  and  it  reached  nearly 
to  the  opening  in  the  door. 

From  the  lips  of  the  man  came  a  growl  of  disappoint- 
ment— a  growl  that  sounded  very  much  like  those  emitted 
by  the  dog. 

"So  the  young  fool  is  still  dead  ter  der  world,"  mut- 
tered the  man,  hoarsely.  "Der  boss  must  have  gin  him  a 
stiff  tap  on  der  nut.  Mebbe  he'll  croak  widout  comin' 
round  at  all.  Ef  he  does,  der  boss  kin  be  satisfied  wid  his 
own  work.  Dunno  wot  he  wants  ter  do  anyhow.  Says 
he  wants  ter  make  der  kid  sign  somet'in',  now  we's  got 
him  here,  but  I  t'ink  dat's  rot." 

Then  he  spoke  to  the  dog: 

"Down,  Demon — down !  Keep  watch  on  der  feller.  Ef 
he  tries  ter  monkey  wid  der  door,  taste  of  him.  No,  I 
ain't  goin'  ter  feed  yer.  You  might  git  lazy  an'  careless. 
Down,  and  watch  der  cove." 

The  dog  did  not  seem  to  like  this  very  well,  for  he 
growled  angrily. 

"Dat's  right,"  snarled  the  ruffian;  "growl  at  me,  will 
yer  ?  Well,  you'll  go  hungry  all  de  longer  f er  dat !  See !" 

The  opening  in  the  door  was  closed  with  a  slap,  and 
Frank  Merriwell  was  once  more  alone  with  his  fierce 
guard. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     MAD     DOG. 

The  dog  was  enraged  by  the  departure  of  the  man. 
The  beast  flung  himself  against  the  door,  setting  up  a 
roaring  howl  that  seemed  to  make  Frank's  hair  stand 
on  his  head. 

"By  jingoes!"  thought  the  captive  lad;  "this  is  de- 
cidedly pleasant !  That  dog  may  turn  on  me  now." 

Frank  decided  it  was  best  to  keep  very  still  until  the 
dog  was  somewhat  cooled  down. 

There  was  no  longer  a  doubt  but  he  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  his  unknown  enemy,  and  that  very  enemy  had 
struck  the  blow  that  knocked  him  senseless.  How  it  came 
about  he  could  not  conceive,  but  come  about  it  had. 

That  his  position  was  one  of  the  gravest  peril  Frank 
could  not  doubt. 

What  could  he  do? 

It  did  not  seem  that  there  was  a  chance  for  him  to  do 
anything  but  wait,  but  that  seemed  too  much  like  waiting 
for  the  enemy  to  finish  the  job,  and  it  did  not  suit  Frank 
at  all. 

"Wants  me  to  sign  something,  does  he  ?"  muttered  the 
captive.  "What  can  it  be?  I  cannot  understand  this 
business  at  all." 

It  was  useless  to  speculate  on  the  mystery,  as  specula- 
tion simply  served  to  make  his  head  throb  more  fiercely 
with  pain. 

He  fell  to  watching  the  dog,  and  he  saw  the  creature 
was  moving  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the  door,  with  its  head 
down,  and  its  tongue  hanging  out.  These  movements 
filled  Frank  with  a  vague  feeling  of  alarm. 

The  boy  watched  the  dog  as  if  fascinated.  From  the 
end  of  the  animal's  tongue  a  bit  of  frothy  drule  was  drop- 
ping. Now  and  then  the  beast  would  turn  and  look  at 
Frank  with  those  red,  restless  eyes,  and  the  boy's  blood 
would  grow  cold. 


The  Mad  Dog.  45 

After  a  time  the  dog  began  to  whine  and  snarl,  shaking 
its  head  as  if  annoyed.  It  lay  down  repeatedly,  but  got 
up  immediately  each  time  and  resumed  the  walk  to  and 
fro  in  front  of  the  door. 

"The  dog  is  sick,"  Frank  decided.  "That  is  plain 
enough.  If  he'd  get  so  bad  he  didn't  mind  me,  I  might 
stand  a  show  of  getting  out." 

With  each  passing  moment  the  dog  grew  worse.  It) 
was  not  long  before  he  seemed  to  forget  that  he  was  there* 
to  guard  the  captive,  for  he  left  the  door  and  went  into 
a  corner,  where  he  put  his  nose  close  to  the  floor  and 
snarled  and  whined  in  a  way  that  made  Frank  Merriwell 
long  to  get  out  without  delay. 

Of  a  sudden,  the  beast  began  to  tear  about  the  room, 
snapping  and  snarling,  a  white  foam  forming  on  its  lips. 

And  now  the  sensation  of  horror  that  assailed  Frank 
Merriwell  was  indescribable. 

"The  dog  is  mad !"  gasped  the  boy. 

Frank  dared  not  stir,  fearing  he  would  be  attacked  the 
moment  he  did  so. 

Had  he  escaped  from  a  frightful  death  in  being  hurled 
from  the  elevated  train  to  the  street,  simply  to  meet  a  still 
more  frightful  death  in  this  wretched  room  ? 

Twice  in  his  mad  lunging  about  the  room  the  dog 
jumped  fairly  over  Frank's  prostrate  body;  but  still  the 
boy  did  not  stir,  and  it  was  well  for  him  that  he  remained 
motionless. 

If  the  dog  had  been  attacked  by  hydrophobia,  it  was  the 
first  stage  of  the  disease  as  plainly  manifest,  and  Frank 
hoped  the  creature  might  quiet  down. 

After  a  little  time  this  happened,  and  the  dog  crouched 
in  a  corner,  shivering  and  whining,  seeming  overcome 
with  terror. 

"Now  is  my  time !"  muttered  Frank. 

As  quietly  and  carefully  as  possible,  he  got  upon  his 
feet,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  dog  all  the  time.  To  his 
intense  satisfaction,  the  creature  seemed  to  heed  his  move- 
ments very  little.  The  door  was  no  longer  guarded,  and 
toward  it  Frank  swiftly  and  quietly  moved. 

The  dog  continued  to  shiver  and  whine. 

"If  I  had  a  shotgun,  loaded  with  double-B  shot,  I'd 
soon  fix  you !"  thought  the  boy. 


46  The  Mad  Dog. 

The  door  was  reached,  but  it  would  not  open  when 
Frank  pushed  upon  it.  This,  however,  was  no  more  than 
the  boy  had  expected. 

Continuing  his  examination,  he  soon  found  the  doot 
was  somewhat  shaky. 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  burst  it  open  if  I  were  to  make  a 
run  across  the  room  and  hurl  myself  at  it?"  speculated 
Frank. 

Then  he  thought  of  the  dog,  and  he  quickly  decided  it 
would  not  do  to  make  such  an  attempt,  for  the  creature 
would  be  aroused,  and,  in  case  the  attempt  failed,  it  was 
likely  the  dog  would  be  upon  him  in  a  moment. 

Putting  his  shoulder  against  the  door,  Frank  attempted 
to  force  it  by  a  sharp  thrust,  but  that  effort  failed. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  knife,  and  he  wondered  how 
long  it  would  take  him  to  cut  a  hole  through  the  door. 

He  did  not  spend  much  time  in  speculating  on  that,  for 
he  quickly  decided  he  must  get  out  of  that  room  in  short 
order,  if  he  wished  to  escape  being  bitten  by  the  rabid 
dog.  When  the  next  attack  came,  it  was  pretty  certain 
the  beast  would  snap  and  bite  at  everything  within  the 
room,  animate  or  inanimate,  in  case  it  should  be  within 
reach. 

A  mad  desire  to  get  away  without  delay  seized  on 
Frank,  and  it  was  only  by  a  great  effort  of  his  will  that  he 
held  himself  in  check.  He  longed  to  beat  upon  the  door, 
to  shout,  to  break  something. 

He  tried  the  small  panel  that  covered  the  square  open- 
ing in  the  door,  but  that  was  also  fastened.  He  pressed 
upon  it  with  all  his  strength ;  but  it  did  not  stir,  and  he  be- 
gan to  feel  that  his  situation  was  becoming  still  more  des- 
perate. 

Now  and  then  Frank  turned  to  look  at  the  dog.  The 
creature  was  still  standing  with  its  head  down  and  its 
tongue  out ;  but  the  shivering  that  had  agitated  his  body 
was  diminishing. 

"It  is  liable  to  have  another  wild  spell  in  a  moment," 
thought  Frank.  "I  must  get  out,  or  I  must  obtain  some 
weapon  of  defense  besides  this  knife." 

What  sort  of  a  weapon  could  he  obtain?  He  looked 
about  for  something — anything,  and  his  eyes  fell  on  the 
wretched  table. 


The  Mad  Dog.  47 

Moving  silently  and  gently,  Frank  soon  reached  the 
table,  his  sharp  eyes  having  noted  that  one  of  the  legs 
looked  as  if  it  could  be  torn  away  without  much  trouble. 
The  touch  of  his  hand  showed  him  that  the  leg  was  very 
loose,  and  he  grasped  it,  gave  a  wrench,  and  tore  it  free. 

A  savage  snarl  came  from  the  dog. 

Frank  whirled  about,  and  it  required  but  a  glance  to 
show  him  that  the  animal  was  on  the  verge  of  having 
another  fit. 

"The  tug  of  war  is  coming !"  muttered  the  boy,  nerving 
himself  for  the  emergency.  "The  chances  are  against  me, 
but  I'm  going  to  put  up  as  stiff  a  fight  as  I  can." 

The  table  was  standing  on  three  legs,  and  an  idea 
flashed  through  Frank's  head.  If  he  could  get  upon  the 
table  he  would  be  out  of  the  dog's  way,  and  he  would  have 
all  the  better  chance  of  beating  the  beast  off. 

"I'll  try  it." 

Up  upon  the  table  he  leaped,  taking  care  not  to  over- 
turn it.  In  a  moment  he  was  standing  so  the  table  was 
well  balanced  on  its  three  legs. 

This  he  did  not  a  moment  too  soon. 

The  dog  set  up  a  frightful  snarling  and  howling,  and 
then  it  began  to  dash  about  the  room  once  more. 

Frank  lifted  the  leg  of  the  table  which  he  had  wrenched 
away,  holding  it  ready  for  use. 

Round  the  small  room  tore  the  great  beast,  froth  flying 
from  its  lips.  It  snapped  and  snarled  at  everything. 

Once  it  went  round  without  attacking  Frank,  but  on  the 
second  turn  it  rushed  straight  for  the  boy,  launching  itself 
into  the  air,  with  a  frightful  howl,  and  seeming  to  fly 
straight  for  the  lad's  throat. 

With  all  the  strength  he  possessed,  Frank  swung  the 
table-leg. 

Whack ! 

The  blow  struck  the  dog  fairly  between  the  eyes,  and 
the  beast  was  flung  back  to  the  floor,  where  it  fell  in  a 
quivering,  howling,  snarling  heap.  , 

In  a  moment,  however,  the  dog  was  up  again  and  rush- 
ing around  the  room. 

Frank  realized  that  he  had  been  very  fortunate  in  hit- 
ting the  dog  so  fairly  the  first  time,  and  he  knew  a  second 
leap  might  not  result  so  well. 


48  The  Mad  Dog. 

In  a  moment  the  creature  came  at  him. 

Again  Frank  struck  with  the  table-leg.  In  bringing  it 
around,  he  swept  the  lamp  from  the  shelf  on  which  it  had 
been  setting,  and  it  was  dashed  to  pieces  and  extinguished 
on  the  floor. 

Frank  felt  the  club  strike  the  dog  again,  and  the  rabid 
beast  was  beaten  off  once  more. 

But  the  position  was  one  of  indescribable  horror,  for 
Frank  was  imprisoned  in  that  small,  dark  room  with  the 
mad  dog,  and  he  could  no  longer  see  to  defend  himself. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BY     FIRE     AND     WATER. 

The  dog  continued  its  wild  charges  around  the  room, 
and  the  boy  on  the  table  heard  it  plunge  headlong  into  the 
wall  several  times.  Then  it  seemed  to  quiet  down. 

It  is  not  strange  that  Frank  found  himself  quivering  in 
every  limb.  It  would  have  been  marvelous  if  he  had  not 
experienced  a  sensation  of  horror. 

Listening,  he  could  heard  the  dog  panting  somewhere 
in  the  room,  but  he  could  not  tell  whether  the  creature  was 
nearby  or  at  the  further  extremity  of  the  narrow  place. 

In  either  case  he  was  much  too  near  to  suit  Frank. 

After  a  time,  the  boy  could  see  the  eyes  of  the  beast 
glowing  in  the  darkness,  and  they  seemed  turned  straight 
on  Frank. 

Frank  watched  those  glowing  orbs,  and  a  singular  sen- 
sation began  to  creep  slowly  over  him — a  sensation  of  ut- 
ter helplessness. 

"If  I  am  attacked  again,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  defend 
myself !"  thought  the  boy. 

What  was  that  ? 

Frank's  heart  gave  a  hopeful  bound,  for  he  heard  foot- 
steps outside  the  door. 

The  dog  heard  the  sounds,  and  began  to  howl  in  a 
frightful  manner. 

Then  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  the  voice  of  the  man 
who  had  appeared  at  the  panel  a  short  time  before  said : 

"What's  all  this  racket  in  here?  Hello!  Dark!  The 
light  is  out !  Demon,  boy,  where  are " 

A  snarl  came  from  the  throat  of  the  dog,  and  it  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  howl  from  the  lips  of  the  man. 

Frank  Merriwell  knew  what  it  meant,  and  he  shud- 
dered with  unspeakable  horror. 

The  man  had  been  attacked  by  his  own  dog ! 

The  boy  on  the  table  heard  a  fearful  battle  taking  place 
just  outside  the  door.  The  smothered  snarling  and  snap- 


5O  By  Fire  and  Water. 

ping  of  the  dog  were  mingled  with  shrieks  and  appeals 
for  help  from  the  lips  of  the  man. 

If  Frank  could  have  seen,  he  would  have  gone  to  the 
aid  of  the  man,  even  though  the  fellow  was  a  ruffian  of 
the  lowest  type.  As  it  was,  he  could  do  nothing. 

The  cries  of  the  man  soon  brought  some  one,  and  Frank 
saw  a  light  that  shone  in  at  the  door  of  the  room. 

Down  from  the  table  he  sprang,  and,  looking  out  at  the 
door,  he  saw  an  old  woman  appear  at  the  farther  end  of 
a  narrow,  dirty  passage.  The  woman  had  a  lighted  lamp 
in  her  hand. 

"Dave!  Dave!"  she  called,  in  a  harsh  voice;  "w'at's 
der  matter,  anyhow  ?" 

"Help !"  roared  the  man.     "Demon's  chawin'  me  up !" 

When  the  woman  saw  what  was  taking  place,  she 
dropped  the  lamp,  uttering  a  scream  of  terror,  and  fled. 

The  lamp  broke,  but  did  not  go  out.  The  running  oil 
caught  in  a  moment,  and  flames  sprang  up. 

Then  the  man,  bleeding  and  torn,  succeeded  in  flinging 
the  dog  from  him.  With  a  hoarse  shout,  he  leaped  over 
the  flames  and  quickly  disappeared. 

The  glare  of  the  fire  caused  the  dog  to  crouch  and 
cower. 

Frank  was  still  in  a  frightful  trap,  and  his  peril  was  in- 
creasing with  every  moment.  Between  him  and  liberty 
blazed  the  fire  and  crouched  the  mad  dog. 

What  could  he  do  ? 

He  fully  realized  that  there  could  not  be  many  moments 
to  spare.  If  he  did  not  escape  in  a  few  seconds,  the  fire 
would  shut  him  off  so  escape  would  be  impossible. 

Swiftly  and  silently  he  crept  up  behind  the  cowering 
dog,  the  table-leg  uplifted.  Well  it  was  that  the  sight  of 
the  fire  seemed  to  fascinate  the  animal  and  command  its 
entire  attention. 

Reaching  the  proper  position,  Frank  struck  the  beast 
upon  the  head  with  all  the  strength  he  could  command, 
and  the  table-leg  broke  in  his  hands. 

Without  waiting  to  note  the  result  of  that  blow,  Frank 
dashed  forward  and  sprang  over  the  flames,  determined 
to  make  his  escape  if  possible. 

He  plunged  fairly  into  the  midst  of  several  persons  who 
were  hurrying  to  the  spot,  and  he  heard  a  voice  cry ; 


By  Fire  and  Water.  51 

"It's  the  boy !     He's   escaping !     Stop  him !" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Frank's  mysterious  foe ! 

"It  isn't  so  easy  to  stop  me  now !"  panted  Frank. 

Out  shot  his  hard  fists  to  the  right  and  left.  Smack! 
smack!  At  least  two  blows  landed  fairly,  and  at  least 
two  of  the  party  were  sent  staggering. 

Like  a  cyclone  Frank  burst  through,  avoiding  hands 
outstretched  to  grasp  him.  He  felt  that  nothing  should 
stop  him  now. 

Without  hesitation,  he  flung  open  any  door  that  stood 
before  him,  and  plunged  straight  ahead. 

Through  one  or  two  rooms  he  went  in  this  way,  hear- 
ing angry  cries  behind  him,  and  knowing  he  would  be 
hotly  pursued. 

"I  must  trust  to  luck  now,"  he  muttered,  as  he  un- 
hasped  a  door  and  sprang  through  it. 

Splash!  Frank  struck  in  a  body  of  water,  and  went 
completely  under. 

In  a  moment,  he  came  to  the  surface  and  looked  around. 

"The  open  air — a  river!"  he  thought,  exultantly.  "I 
have  escaped !  I  am  free !" 

Distant  lights  were  twinkling  on  the  farther  shore  of 
the  river,  while,  near  at  hand,  he  could  see  a  few  wretched 
buildings  and  some  wharves.  The  door  through  which 
he  had  plunged  into  the  river  stood  wide  open  close  by. 

Frank  was  an  expert  swimmer,  and  he  immediately 
struck  out.  He  had  not  taken  three  strokes  before  a  man 
appeared  in  the  open  door,  lamp  in  hand,  and  shouted : 

"There  he  is!  He's  getting  away!  Out  and  after 
him!  Don't  let  him  get  ashore  without  being  nabbed!" 

Understanding  it  was  a  lonely  location  on  the  river, 
where  almost  any  kind  of  a  crime  might  be  perpetrated 
without  fear  of  detection,  Frank  made  all  haste  to  get 
ashore  before  he  could  be  recaptured. 

The  current  was  quite  strong,  and  it  swept  him  down 
the  river  and  under  an  old  pier. 

Just  as  Frank  disappeared  under  the  old  pier  he  saw 
two  men  come  running  out  upon  it,  and  he  believed  they 
were  two  enemies  who  had  seen  him  carried  in  that  di- 
rection. 

Getting  hold  of  a  slimy  timber,  Frank  clung  there  in 
the  darkness,  listening.  He  was  able  to  hear  the  men 


52  By  Fire  and  Water. 

speaking  to  each  other,  and,  although  he  did  not  under- 
stand their  words,  he  felt  certain  he  had  made  no  mis- 
take in  believing  them  foes. 

For  some  time  the  men  lingered  above.  At  length  they 
secured  an  old  skiff,  with  which  they  came  poking  around 
the  pier,  trying  to  peer  into  the  darkness  beneath  the 
structure. 

There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  in  Frank's  mind,  for. 
he  was  now  able  to  hear  their  words.     One  of  the  men! 
was  railing  at  the  fortune  which  had  enabled  Frank  to 
get  away,  and  that  man,  so  the  boy  believed,  was  the 
mysterious  enemy  who  had  caused  him  so  much  trouble. 

Frank  had  expected  that  the  building  from  which  he 
had  just  escaped  would  burn  to  the  ground,  but  it  was  a 
long  time  before  the  light  of  the  fire  began  to  shine  out 
on  the  river.  This  finally  happened,  however,  and  he 
heard  one  of  the  men  in  the  skiff  say: 

"Dave's  ranch  is  a  goner  this  time.  Here  comes  the 
first  engine,  and  the  old  place  is  so  far  along  that  it  can't 
be  saved." 

"What  do  I  care  for  Dave's  ranch !"  snarled  the  other 
man.  "That  infernal  boy  got  away  when  I  had  him  tight 
and  fast !  That's  what's  troubling  me." 

"It  was  your  own  fault,  boss.  We'd  done  him  any 
time ;  but,  as  you  did  seem  to  have  him  fast,  you  was  goin* 
to  make  him  sign  some  kind  of  a  paper,  an'  that " 

"Oh,  shut  up!  Shove  under  the  pier,  and  we'll  look 
around." 

Then  the  skiff  began  moving  directly  toward  the  place 
where  Frank  was  clinging  to  the  water-soaked  timber. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OUT    OF    THE    RIVER. 
I 

• 

Frank  saw  he  was  not  yet  out  of  danger. 

"What's  the  use  of  looking  under  here  ?"  grumbled  one 
af  the  men.  "We  won't  find  anything." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  we'll  look." 

"Ther  kid's  got  away.     He's  a  fly  young  cove." 

"Altogether  too  fly,"  growled  Frank's  unknown  foe. 

"Wonder  how  he  worked  it  to  set  Dave's  dog  onter  the 
critter's  own  master?" 

"It's  my  opinion  the  dog's  mad,  and  that's  why  he  at- 
tacked Dave." 

"Thunder!  You  may  be  right.  The  brute's  been 
actin'  queer  for  two  days." 

"If  he  is  mad,  I  hope  he  chewed  Frank  Merriwell  some 
—that's  all." 

"You  don't  like  that  boy  any  to  brag  of." 

"Like  him !  I  should  say  not !  Why  did  I  bring  him 
to  the  gang,  and  offer  them  good  money  to  dispose  of 
him  so  his  body'd  never  be  found  ?  I  have  no  reason  to 
like  him,  I  hate  him,  and  I  don't  propose  to  rest  till  he  is 
put  out  of  the  way  for  good  and  all." 

The  ligfit  of  the  fire  was  growing  stronger,  but  it  did 
not  reach  far  enough  beneath  the  pier  for  Frank  to  see 
the  faces  of  his  foes.  The  boy  would  have  given  much 
had  he  been  able  to  see  the  features  of  the  man  who 
hated  him  with  such  deadly  hatred. 

Again  it  seemed  to  Frank  that  there  was  something 
familiar  about  the  voice  of  that  individual. 

"I've  heard  that  voice  before  I  ever  saw  New  York," 
thought  Frank;  "but  when — where?" 

Slowly  the  men  pushed  the  skiff  about  amid  the  tim- 
bers, and  Frank  kept  as  far  down  in  the  water  as  possible, 
hoping  thus  to  escape  detection,  although  they  were  close 
upon  him. 

"What's  the  use  of  pokin'  'round  in  here?"  grumbled 


54  Out  of  the  River. 

the  fellow  who  accompanied  Frank's  foe.  "We  can't  sec 
anything." 

"You've  got  no  reason  to  kick — I'm  paying." 

"Well,  I  don't  like  this  place.  Perhaps  the  boy  is 
drowned." 

"Little  danger  of  that.  Fire,  water,  or  a  hundred-foot 
fall  from  an  elevated  railroad  will  not  kill  him!  I  be- 
lieve Satan  aids  him!" 

"I  don't  need  assistance  from  your  master,"  thought 
the  boy. 

The  skiff  floated  past  where  Frank  could  reach  out 
and  touch  it,  which  he  did  as  the  stern  came  along. 

Releasing  his  hold  on  the  slippery  timber,  Frank  fas- 
tened to  the  stern  of  the  boat,  still  keeping  well  down  in 
the  water,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  towed  along. 

In  this  way  the  men  who  were  searching  for  Frank 
towed  him  out  from  beneath  the  pier. 

A  feeling  of  mischief  seized  upon  the  boy,  and,  with 
a  sudden  effort,  he  upset  the  skiff,  throwing  both  of  the 
men  into  the  water,  which  was  rather  cold.  This  was 
not  a  difficult  matter,  for  the  boat  was  old,  leaky,  and 
cranky. 

Two  strokes  carried  Frank  back  beneath  the  edge  of 
the  pier,  where  he  clung  and  awaited  the  result  of  his  act. 

The  men  had  disappeared  beneath  the  surface,  but  they 
quickly  came  up,  spouting  water  from  their  mouths,  and 
the  water  was  followed  by  some  decidedly  violent  lan- 
guage. 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  blundering  fool?"  snarled 
Frank's  particular  foe.  "Why  did  you  upset  the  boat?" 

"I  didn't  upset  it !"  flung  back  the  other.  "You  upset 
it  yourself !" 

"That's  a  lie !  You  did  it  by  your  blundering  careless- 
ness !" 

"That's  a  lie  for  you.  I've  been  around  the  river  all 
my  life.  What  do  you  know  about  boats?" 

"Well,  I  should  know  something,  and  I  don't  propose 
to  be  called  a  liar  by  you !" 

"What're  ye  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

"This!" 

Frank  could  see  them  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and 
he  saw  his  enemy  lift  a  hand  and  strike  the  other  in  the 


Out  of  the  River.  55 

face.  In  another  moment,  the  men  had  clinched,  and  then 
began  a  desperate  struggle  in  the  water. 

"If  they  will  drown  each  other  it  will  be  a  great  relief 
to  me  and  a  fine  thing  for  the  country  at  large,"  thought 
Frank. 

The  battle  was  a  savage  one,  and  the  current  caught  the 
two  men  and  swept  them  away.  At  times  they  sank 
beneath  the  surface,  but  when  they  came  up  they  resumed 
the  struggle.  This  continued  till  they  had  floated  beyond 
Frank's  sight  under  the  shadow  of  the  shore. 

"Well,  I  rather  think  it  is  time  for  me  to  get  out  of 
this,"  muttered  the  boy. 

It  was  not  a  difficult  task  to  swim  ashore,  and  he  was 
soon  where  he  could  climb  upon  the  pier  and  look  for  the 
men  who  had  been  searching  for  him  a  short  time  before. 

He  could  see  nothing  of  them,  althought  the  light  of 
the  fire  shone  on  the  water. 

Looking  toward  the  old  building  from  which  he  had 
escaped  in  such  a  providential  manner,  he  saw  nearly  one- 
half  of  it  was  in  flames.  A  fire-engine  was  working  near- 
by and  several  streams  were  being  poured  on  the  flames. 

The  light  of  the  fire  showed  that  a  wretched  mob  of 
human  beings  had  gathered  near  the  blaze,  called  out  of 
the  surrounding  hovels  by  the  fire. 

Not  caring  to  be  questioned,  Frank  sought  a  spot 
where  he  could  remove  some  of  his  clothing  under  cover 
of  the  darkness  and  wring  out  some  of  the  water. 

"I  wonder  if  they  found  my  money  ?"  he  muttered. 

He  had  a  hidden  money  pocket  in  his  clothes,  and,  with- 
out delay,  he  examined  it  to  see  if  they  had  relieved  him  of 
its  contents. 

To  his  intense  satisfaction,  he  found  they  had  not  dis- 
covered it,  and  his  money  was  all  right,  although  the 
bills  hidden  away  there  had  been  well  soaked. 

Frank  had  not  the  least  idea  concerning  the  part  of  the 
city  he  was  in,  but  he  had  money,  and  he  believed  that 
would  take  him  back  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel. 

Without  spending  much  time  in  that  vicinity  after  get- 
ting out  of  the  river,  he  hastened  away.  Through  the 
wretched  streets  he  made  his  way  till  he  came  to  an 
elevated  railroad  trestle.  Passing  on  yet  another  long 


56  Out  of  the  River. 

block,  he  came  to  a  second  elevated  railroad,  and  found 
himself  on  a  brightly  lighted  street,  where  there  were 
numbers  of  pedestrians,  although  Frank  was  sure  the 
hour  must  be  late. 

A  cab  was  passing,  with  the  driver  nodding  sleepily 
on  the  box  and  Frank  immediately  hailed  the  fellow. 

"How  far  is  it  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel?"  he  asked. 

"Five  miles,"  was  the  surly  reply. 

Frank  whistled  with  surprise. 

"How  much  will  you  charge  to  take  me  there?" 

"Five  dollars." 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?"  cried  the  boy.  "I  can 
make  it  by  the  elevated  for  five  cents." 

"Perhaps  yer  might  if  they  didn't  arrest  yer." 

"Arrest  me?     What   for?" 

"On  suspicion.  You  don't  look  jest  right,  me  young 
covie." 

Frank  realized  that  he  did  not  look  "just  right,"  and 
that  was  why  he  wished  to  obtain  passage  in  a  closed 
carriage,  but  he  knew  the  legal  rates  of  the  city,  and  he 
was  aware  that  cabby  had  asked  him  exactly  two  dollars 
and  a  half  more  than  the  correct  price. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "I'll  give  you  three  dollars  to 
take  me  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and  not  a  cent  more. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"Say,  young  feller,  wot  d'yer  take  me  fer?  Think  I 
dunno  me  biz?" 

"You  are  not  allowed  to  charge  over  fifty  cents  a 
mile,  at  the  most.  Five  miles  would  be  two  and  a  half. 
I've  offered  you  three.  Accept  it  or  not,  as  you  like." 

"Pay  in  advance?" 

"No." 

"Don't  believe  you've  got  der  scads." 

"Here— see." 

Frank  showed  his  money. 

"That  looks  all  right,  though  I  ruther  think  you've 
been  in  ther  wash.  Get  in." 

Frank  lost  no  time  in  entering  the  cab,  as  he  saw  his 
appearance  had  begun  to  attract  attention,  and  one  or 
two  persons  were  stopping  to  look  and  listen. 

The  door  closed  behind  Frank,  and  the  driver  turned 
about,  whipped  up  his  horse,  and  headed  downtown. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AT   POLICE   HEADQUARTERS. 

Safe  within  the  cab  and  on  his  way  to  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel,  Frank  lay  back  and  tried  to  think  of  the 
adventures  of  the  night;  but  when  he  did  so  he  could 
scarcely  believe  them  all  real,  and  he  wondered  if  he 
had  not  been  dreaming. 

He  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  his  struggle  on  the 
elevated  train  and  what  had  followed;  but  thoughts  of 
his  situation  when  he  was  confined  with  the  mad  dog  over- 
came him  with  unutterable  horror.  Surely  a  kind  Provi- 
dence had  watched  over  him,  else  he  could  not  have  passed 
through  all  this  and  come  forth  unharmed — almost  un- 
scathed. 

Frank  knew  he  had  every  reason  to  be  thankful,  and 
thankful  he  surely  was. 

He  had  been  buoyed  by  excitement,  but  now  it  was  all 
over,  he  sank  back  on  the  cushioned  seat  of  the  cab  in 
an  exhausted  condition. 

Thus  he  lay  while  the  cab  rumbled  along  the  streets. 
It  was  a  long,  tiresome  ride,  but,  looking  from  the  win- 
dow,  Frank  finally  discerned  the  familiar  corner  of 
Madison  square,  and,  a  moment  later,  the  cab  drew  up  in 
front  of  the  hotel. 

The  driver  jumped  down  quickly  and  opened  the  door, 
evidently  to  make  sure  the  boy  did  not  escape  without 
paying. 

The  smallest  bill  in  Frank's  possession  was  a  V,  and, 
showing  this,  he  caused  the  driver  to  produce  two  dollars 
in  change  before  he  passed  over  the  money. 

"S'pose  ye  think  yer  mighty  sharp,"  growled  the  man, 
as  he  reluctantly  passed  over  the  two  dollars;  "but  I'll 
make  up  fer  you  on  some  other  bloke." 

"That's  all  right,"  laughed  Frank.  "I  am  not  looking 
out  for  other  folks.  I  am  making  sure  you  do  not  beat 
me." 


58  At  Police  Headquarters. 

Despite  the  hour,  there  were  still  not  a  few  pedestrians 
on  Broadway,  a  thoroughfare  on  which  there  is  pulsing 
life  and  movement  constantly  night  and  day  year  after 
year.  Late  at  night  the  current  may  dwindle,  but  it  con- 
tinues to  flow,  and  thus  it  fluctuates  and  flows,  summer 
and  winter,  storm  and  shine. 

Frank  was  well  aware  that  he  presented  a  singular  ap- 
pearance, and  he  did  not  care  to  attract  much  attention, 
therefore  he  hurried  into  the  hotel  without  delay. 

The  few  individuals  who  were  moving  in  the  long  cor- 
ridor opened  their  eyes  in  astonishment  and  wonder  as 
they  noted  his  appearance.  The  night  clerk  sat  bolt  up- 
right, as  if  he  had  received  an  electric  shock,  staring  hard 
at  the  bareheaded  lad,  who,  although  he  was  well  dressed, 
looked  as  if  he  had  been  for  hours  in  a  drenching  rain- 
storm. 

Frank  stepped  forward  briskly,  passed  the  clerk,  and 
was  soon  rousing  the  rather  sleepy  elevator  boy.  The 
latter  had  never  before  seen  Frank,  at  whom  he  stared 
in  bewilderment,  thickly  asking: 

"Which  floor?" 

"Fifth." 

Up  glided  the  car,  and  Frank  drew  a  breath  of  relief, 
for  he  had  feared  that  he  would  be  stopped  and  forced 
to  explain,  which  he  did  not  care  to  do. 

The  boy  let  him  out  at  the  fifth  floor,  but  he  held  the 
car  there  and  watched  till  Frank  disappeared  around  the 
corner. 

Frank  had  good  cause  to  congratulate  himself,  for 
ordinarily  he  could  not  have  reached  that  floor  without 
being  questioned;  but  his  confident,  unfaltering  manner 
had  plainly  declared  him  a  guest  of  the  hotel,  for  all  of 
his  remarkable  appearance. 

As  Frank  approached  the  suite  of  rooms  engaged  by 
Professor  Scotch,  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  out  came 
the  professor,  with  Hans  at  his  heels.  Both  wore  top 
coats,  and  their  movements  indicated  that  they  were  in  a 
hurry. 

"It's  useless  to  wait  longer,"  the  professor  was  declar- 
ing. "We  must  report  to  the  police." 

"Yah,"  agreed  the  Dutch  boy,  "we  must  report  to  der 
bolice." 


At  Police  Headquarters.  59 

The  little  professor  nearly  ran  into  Frank,  who  was 
standing  directly  beneath  one  of  the  subdued  lights.  The 
appearance  of  the  lad  gave  Scotch  a  terrible  shock,  and 
ihe  recoiled  against  Hans,  who  gurgled : 

"Shimminy  Gristmas!  Vos  dot  a  ghost,  ain'd  id?" 

In  a  low,  hollow  voice,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the 
depths  of  some  great  cavern,  Frank  said : 

"Behold,  I  come  to  lead  you  to  the  spot  where  my  body 
may  be  found." 

The  professor  turned  pale,  and  Hans'  teeth  began  to 
chatter. 

"Oxcuse  me!"  came  faintly  from  the  lips  of  the  Dutch 
boy.  "Vere  vos  dot?" 

"At  the  bottom  of  the  East  River." 

"Veil,  I  don'd  peen  no  fish !"  fluttered  Hans,  as  he  re- 
leased his  hold  on  Professor  Scotch  and  bolted  from  the 
spot. 

The  professor  had  been  leaning  so  heavily  upon  Hans 
that  he  dropped  to  a  sitting  position  the  moment  his  sup- 
port was  gone,  and  he  hastened  to  say: 

"To  be  sure!  to  be  sure!  Of  course  we'll  accommo- 
date you,  if  we  can  secure  divers'  suits." 

This  brought  a  merry  burst  of  laughter  from  Frank's 
lips,  and  he  hastened  to  assist  the  professor  to  rise. 

"Well,  well,  well !"  muttered  Scotch.  "Is  it  really  you? 
Of  course  it  is !  I  knew  it  all  the  time ;  you  didn't  fool 
me." 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all !"  chuckled  Frank. 

"Not  a  bit,"  asserted  the  professor,  stoutly.  "I  am  not 
in  the  least  superstitious.  Educated  men  are  never  su- 
perstitious. But  I  will  admit  that  you  looked  rather 
ghost-like  as  you  stood  there." 

"I  did  frighten  Hans  a  bit." 

"Somewhat.  But  where  have  you  been?  Your  hat  is 
gone,  your  face  is  pale,  and  your  clothing  is  dripping 
wet." 

"Well,  I  have  been  in  the  Harlem  River,  the  East  River, 
the  Atlantic  Ocean,  or  somewhere  else.  Let's  get  into  the 
room,  and  I'll  tell  you  about  it." 

Hans  was  watching  them  from  a  distant  end  of  the 
passage,  and  he  began  to  feel  reassured  when  he  saw 
Frank  and  the  professor  talking  together  familiarly. 


60  At  Police  Headquarters. 

"Veil,  maype  dot  don'd  peen  a  ghost,"  muttered  the 
Dutch  boy;  "but  I'd  rather  haf  a  huntret  tollars  than  see 
him  do  dot  again !" 

Professor  Scotch  and  Frank  entered  the  parlor  of  the 
suite,  and  Hans  slipped  swiftly  to  the  door,  where  he 
could  hear  them  talking  in  a  way  that  made  him  think 
everything  all  right,  so  he  opened  the  door  and  slipped 
inside. 

Frank's  trunk  had  been  brought  from  the  station,  and 
he  was  losing  no  time  in  exchanging  his  water-soaked 
clothing  for  garments  that  were  dry,  in  the  meantime  re- 
lating the  story  of  his  recent  thrilling  experiences. 

To  this  astounding  story  Professor  Scotch  and  Hans 
Dunnerwust  listened  in  the  most  profound  amazement, 
and  when  it  was  finished,  the  professor  was  excited  as  he 
had  never  been  before. 

"The  police  must  be  notified!"  he  almost  roared. 
"Those  villains  must  be  captured!" 

"Dot  peen  pusiness !"  cried  Hans.  "Uf  dose  villains 
don't  peen  captured  righd  avay  queek  alretty  yet,  you 
vos  a  liar!" 

"Easy,"  cautioned  Frank.  "You  will  not  find  them  if 
you  look  for  them  now.  The  old  house  burned,  and 
two  of  them  floated  off  in  the  river.  If  they  succeeded 
in  drowning  each  other,  my  enemy  will  give  me  no  fur- 
ther trouble.  It  will  be  time  enough  in  the  morning  for 
me  to  make  a  report  at  police  headquarters." 

He  found  it  somewhat  difficult  to  convince  the  pro- 
fessor that  the  whole  affair  should  not  be  reported  at 
once,  but  he  finally  succeeded. 

If  Frank  had  not  been  utterly  exhausted,  the  pro- 
fessor would  have  kept  him  up  to  talk  over  the  affair 
for  hours.  But,  having  told  the  story  from  beginning  to 
end,  and  being  dreadfully  tired,  Frank  refused  to  do  any 
further  talking  till  morning,  and  was  soon  in  bed. 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  after  that  before  Professor 
Scotch  retired,  and  then  he  did  not  sleep  well,  for  he 
dreamed  of  the  frightful  adventures  through  which  Frank 
had  passed. 

Strangely  enough,  Frank  seemed  to  slumber  like  a 
child,  and  he  awoke  in  the  morning  feeling  bright  and 


At  Police  Headquarters.  61 

refreshed,  notwithstanding  the  lump  on  the  side  of  his 
head,  which  still  made  itself  felt. 

But  the  professor  was  ready  to  hammer  him  with  hun- 
dreds of  questions,  and  Frank  was  tired  of  answering  and 
explaining  long  before  they  descended  to  breakfast. 

According  to  the  professor,  Frank  had  not  been  missed 
from  the  train  till  they  were  near  the  end  of  the  line.  As 
he  could  not  be  found  when  the  train  reached  the  station 
at  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-fifth  street,  Professor  Scotch 
and  Hans  were  greatly  alarmed. 

Knowing  Frank  was  inclined  to  perpetrate  practical 
jokes,  the  professor  fancied  he  might  be  working  some- 
thing of  the  sort  in  this  case,  so  they  returned  to  the  hotel 
and  waited  for  him  there. 

But  they  could  not  sleep,  and  they  had  decided  to  visit 
police  headquarters  and  report  Frank's  disappearance. 
They  had  just  started  when  they  ran  upon  the  missing 
lad  outside  the  room. 

Having  eaten  breakfast,  and  finding  the  morning  some- 
what chilly,  they  returned  to  their  rooms  and  donned 
overcoats,  after  which  they  left  the  hotel  and  proceeded 
to  police  headquarters  in  Mulberry  street. 

Here  they  finally  obtained  an  interview  with  the  in- 
spector, and  Frank  told  the  story  of  the  assaults  upon  his 
life  since  he  entered  New  York  a  few  hours  before. 

At  first  the  inspector  had  shown  very  little  interest,  but 
his  interest  grew,  and  he  was  simply  astounded  when 
Frank  told  of  his  marvelous  escape  from  death  on  the 
elevated  railroad. 

When  the  tale  was  finished,  the  inspector  put  a  number 
of  questions  to  the  lad,  but  found  that  Frank  was  unable 
to  describe  his  mysterious  foe,  although  he  felt  sure  he 
would  know  the  man's  voice  if  he  ever  heard  it  again. 

Then  the  inspector  questioned  the  lad  in  regard  to  any 
enemies  he  might  have.  Frank  explained  that  he  had 
made  a  number  of  enemies  at  Fardale  Academy,  but  they 
had  all  turned  to  friends  at  last,  so  that,  when  he  left 
the  school,  he  did  not  seem  to  have  an  enemy  among 
them. 

The  inspector  then  brought  out  that  Carlos  Merriwell, 
Frank's  cousin,  had  made  two  desperate  attempts  on  the 
ooy's  life,  but  that  he  had  lost  his  own  life  in  the  second 


62  At  Police  Headquarters. 

attempt,  having  perished  in  a  burning  house  where  he 
had  tried  to  imprison  Frank. 

"If  the  fellow  was  not  drowned  in  the  river,  we  may 
be  able  to  run  him  down,"  said  the  inspector.  "That's 
all.  Leave  your  address.  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel?  Very 
well.  Good-day." 

They  were  curtly  dismissed,  and  the  next  visitor  war 
admitted. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BETWEEN    HEAVEN   AND   EARTH. 

Leaving  police  headquarters,  the  trio  visited  the  Bow- 
ery, along  which  they  strolled,  thoroughly  enjoying  the 
sights  to  be  seen  there.  Hans  was  tempted  by  the  cheap 
shows,  and  it  was  with  no  small  difficulty  they  kept  him 
from  patronizing  everything  of  the  sort. 

At  length  they  reached  City  Hall  square,  and  they 
rested  on  a  seat  near  the  fountain,  from  which  position 
they  could  view  the  tall  buildings  and  watch  the  rush  of 
human  beings  on  every  hand. 

On  one  hand  was  Park  Row,  with  its  crush  of  street 
cars  and  trucks,  and  on  the  other  hand  was  Broadway, 
almost  as  badly  congested  with  a  crush  of  traffic.  The 
new  office  building  on  the  west  side  of  Broadway  loomed 
high  in  the  air,  and  on  the  east  side  of  Park  Row  the 
World  building  thrust  its  gilded  dome  up  into  the  sky. 

"Veil,"  muttered  Hans,  after  he  had  stared  about  in 
open-mouthed  wonder,  "uf  dot  don'd  peat  der  pand,  I 
don'd  know  vere  you  vos  at!" 

Leaving  City  Hall  Park,  they  strolled  through  the  post- 
office,  and  came  out  upon  Broadway,  down  which  they 
'continued  to  Wall  street,  which  proved  something  of  a 
disappointment  to  Hans. 

"I  don'd  seen  der  vail  somewhere  alretty  yet,"  he  said. 
"Und  vere  vos  all  dot  money  vot  they  half  biled  oop  mit 
der  vindows  in  down  here,  ain'd  id  ?" 

Evidently,  he  had  expected  to  feast  his  eyes  on  heaps 
of  money,  and  it  was  likely  he  had  fancied  it  possible  to 
pick  up  some  in  the  street. 

They  had  some  difficulty  in  discovering  the  entrance 
to  the  Stock  Exchange,  but  were  finally  successful. 

As  soon  as  they  were  inside  the  doors,  a  roar  of  voices 
reached  their  ears,  and  Hans  immediately  felt  like  getting 
out  as  soon  as  he  could. 


64  Between  Heaven  and  Earth. 

"Vot  they  keep  in  here,  ain'd  id?"  he  asked.  "Vos  dot 
a  menagery  vot  I  hear  howling  ?" 

They  ascended  the  stairs  to  the  balcony,  although 
Frank  was  forced  to  assure  the  Dutch  boy  over  and  over 
that  he  would  not  be  in  danger  of  getting  hurt  by  the  wild 
animals. 

When  they  were  able  to  look  over  on  the  floor  of  the 
[exchange,  and  Hans  could  see  the  mass  of  swaying,  sur- 
!  £m&»  struggling,  shouting  human  beings,  the  Dutch  lad's 
hair  threatened  to  rise  up  and  lift  his  hat  off  his  head. 

"Dunder  and  blitzen!"  he  gurgled.  "Uf  dot  don'd 
peen  der  piggest  free  fight  you  efer  seen." 

It  happened  to  be  an  exciting  day  in  the  exchange,  and 
the  brokers  were  disporting  themselves  in  ways  that  made 
them  seem  like  a  gang  of  violent  lunatics. 

When  one  man  smashed  the  new  silk  hat  of  another, 
and  then  jumped  on  that  individual's  shoulders  in  order 
to  howl  at  still  another  man  who  was  surrounded  by  a 
wild  mob,  the  Dutch  lad  began  to  take  off  his  coat. 

"Here !  here !"  cried  Frank.  "What  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"Veil,  I  don'd  peen  much  uf  a  fighter,"  replied  Hans, 
wildly,  "but  I  nefer  sdood  sdill  und  seen  anybody  mur- 
tered." 

"Keep  cool.     Nobody  is  being  murdered." 

"Veil,  I  know  dot,  but  uf  they  don'd  mean  to  mutter 
dot  leedle  man  der  mittle  uf  dot  crowd  in,  you  vos  a  liar !" 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,  Hans.     That's  business." 

"Say,  Vrankie,  you  can'd  fool  me.  I  peen  roundt  a 
leedle  mit  der  virld  in,  und  I  know  ven  somepody  vos  in 
danger  uf  peing  safe.  Look  at  dot  man  der  ret  musdashe 
mit  shake  his  fist  der  leedle  man's  face  in !  Look  at  dot 
Dder  man  der  plack  musdashe  mit  crab  der  leetle  man 
hold  uf !  Come,  Vrankie,  ged  a  club,  und  we  peen  goin' 
to  sail  into  dot  gang!" 

It  was  useless  to  argue  with  Hans.  Frank  could  not 
^uiet  the  Dutch  lad,  and  he  became  more  violent  when 
the  professor  tried  to  talk  to  him.  So  they  found  it  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  get  hold  of  him  on  either  side  and 
drag  him  down  the  stairs  and  out  to  the  street. 

"Veil,"  he  observed,  as  Frank  made  him  put  on  his 
Scat,  "uf  dot  man  vos  killed,  I  don'd  peen  to  plame." 


Between  Heaven  and  Earth.  65 

They  turned  back  toward  Broadway,  on  the  farther 
side  of  which  Trinity  Church  lifts  its  spire  to  the 
heavens. 

The  sight  of  this  church  inspired  the  professor  to  enter 
into  a  dissertation  on  Gothic  architecture,  but  Frank  cut 
him  short  by  reminding  him  that  they  did  not  have  time  to 
waste  there. 

The  professor  did  not  propose  visiting  the  graveyard 
near  the  church,  but  he  explained  that  it  contained  the 
graves  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  Robert  Fulton,  the  in- 
ventor of  the  first  steamboat,  and  Captain  Lawrence,  the 
hero  of  the  Chesapeake. 

Frank  wished  to  view  the  city  from  the  tower  of  the 
World  building,  and  so  they  returned  to  City  Hall  square, 
which  they  recrossed. 

Entering  the  World  building,  they  were  able  to  obtain 
permits  to  visit  the  top,  and  they  entered  the  narrow, 
cagelike  elevator  that  carries  passengers  to  the  dome. 

The  newspaper  office  at  the  top  of  that  towering  build- 
ing was  of  great  interest  to  Frank,  and,  having  left  the 
elevator,  he  took  his  time  in  climbing  to  the  last  eerie,  al- 
lowing the  professor  and  Hans  to  precede  him. 

Little  did  Frank  dream  that  his  steps  had  been  dogged, 
and  that  the  next  time  the  elevator  came  up  it  would  con- 
tain his  deadly  enemy. 

Frank  found  Hans  and  the  professor  at  the  top.  They 
were  standing  within  the  narrow  space  between  the 
cupola  and  the  rail,  to  which  both  were  clinging  convul- 
sively. 

The  panorama  spread  out  on  every  hand  was  enough 
to  bewilder  a  person  and  take  away  his  breath. 

Looking  down  over  the  bulging  side  of  the  dome, 
Frank  could  see  the  human  beings  in  City  Hall  square 
looking  like  pigmies,  while  the  cars  and  teams  seemed 
like  tiny  toys.  A  strange  feeling  of  terror  seemed  to 
come  up  and  clutch  at  his  heart  as  he  gazed,  and  he  drew 
back  from  the  rail. 

To  the  north  New  York  City  stretched  away  into  the 
smoky  distance,  with  the  broad  Hudson  on  one  side,  and 
the  East  River  on  the  other.  He  could  see  Blackwell's 
Island,  Ward's  Island,  Hell  Gate,  and  Long  Island 
Sound.  To  the  east  lay  the  housetops  of  Brooklyn, 


66  Between  Heaven  and  Earth. 

stretching  far  down  toward  Coney  Island.  Almost  di- 
rectly beneath  him,  as  it  seemed,  was  the  great  Brooklyn 
bridge.  To  the  south  lay  the  bay,  in  the  midst  of  which 
the  statue  of  Liberty  uplifted  its  unlighted  torch.  Bay 
and  rivers  were  covered  with  moving  vessels,  steamers, 
ferryboats,  tugs,  and  all  kinds  of  craft.  To  the  west  was 
Jersey  City,  and  beyond  Newark  the  Orange  Mountains 
could  be  seen. 

It  was  a  thrilling  and  inspiring  view,  and  Frank  felt 
his  blood  quicken  in  his  veins.  He  moved  around  the 
cupola,  leaving  the  professor  and  Hans. 

It  happened  that  there  were  not  many  visitors  to  the 
dome,  and  Frank  found  himself  alone.  So  absorbed  was 
he  that  he  did  not  notice  when  another  person  slipped  to 
his  side. 

All  at  once  he  was  clutched,  and  in  his  ear  hissed  a  now 
well-known  and  hated  voice : 

"You  may  be  thrown  from  an  elevated  train  and  es- 
cape, but  we'll  see  if  a  drop  from  the  top  of  this  building 
will  do  you  any  damage.  Over  you  go !" 

He  was  lifted  from  his  feet  and  over  the  railing ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  ENEMY   UNMASKED. 

Frank  felt  himself  grasped  by  yet  another  hand — a 
strong  hand  that  held  him  suspended  in  midair,  for  all 
of  the  frightful  strain.  Then  the  boy  got  hold  of  the  rail 
and  dragged  himself  back. 

The  watchman  had  saved  him. 

His  mysterious  enemy  was  gone. 

Seeing  Frank  was  safe,  the  watchman  hastened  after 
the  would-be  murderer. 

Frank  followed,  although  his  legs  felt  weak  beneath 
him. 

Hastening  down  the  steep  stairs,  the  watchman  was 
barely  in  time  to  see  the  elevator  glide  downward  and 
disappear. 

Turning  to  Frank,  the  man  said : 

"He  got  away,  young  man,  for  he  was  on  the  elevator." 

"What  did  he  look  like?"  panted  Frank.  "Describe 
him!" 

"  'Bout  the  only  thing  I  noticed  was  that  he  had  a 
heavy  red  beard." 

"That  was  a  disguise.  This  is  not  the  first  time  he 
has  attacked  me." 

In  a  remarkably  brief  space  of  time,  it  was  known 
throughout  the  office  that  a  strange  man  had  attempted 
to  throw  the  boy  from  the  top  of  the  building. 

That  was  exactly  the  sort  of  a  sensation  which  the  pa- 
per relished,  and  Frank  found  himself  a  captive  in  the 
clutches  of  several  reporters.  He  wished  to  pursue  his 
assailant,  but  was  not  permitted.  However,  the  watch- 
man and  two  reporters  lost  little  time  in  getting  after 
the  man. 

Frank  was  taken  to  the  managing  editor,  who  ex- 
pressed unbounded  satisfaction  when  he  heard  what  had 
happened. 

"This  will  be  a  great  ad !"  he  exclaimed.     "Mrc  Smith, 


68  The  Enemy  Unmasked. 

you  may  do  the  story.    Make  it  any  length  up  to  twc 
columns." 

So  Frank  found  himself  delivered  into  the  hands  oi 
Mr.  Smith,  who  set  about  learning  everything  that  could 
be  worked  into  the  story. 

At  first,  Frank  had  thought  that  he  would  not  tell  that 
this  was  the  fourth  attempt  upon  his  life  since  he  entered 
the  city  the  day  before,  but,  by  adroit  questioning,  Smith 
learned  everything,  and  when  he  had  obtained  the  full 
particulars  his  delight  knew  no  bounds. 

"This  will  make  a  corking  story!"  he  exclaimed.  "It 
is  the  best  thing  we  have  struck  in  a  week." 

He  then  offered  Frank  money  to  keep  the  story  from 
any  other  reporter  for  four  hours.  The  money  Frank 
declined,  but  Smith  succeeded  in  extracting  a  promise  of 
silence. 

This  was  all  over  when  the  professor  and  Hans  came 
down  from  the  top  of  the  building,  looking  around  for 
Frank  in  a  bewildered  way. 

Vere  you  peen,  Vrankie  ?"  asked  the  Dutch  boy.     "We 
seen  you  when  you  come  town.     Why  you  ain'd 
spoke  mit  us  when  you  done  dot  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  fluttered  the  little  professor.  "We  didn't 
fcnow  but  you  had  fallen  from  the  building." 

When  they  were  told  that  Frank  had  been  assailed  and 
•cast  over  the  railing  outside  the  cupola  with  them  not 
twenty  feet  away,  the  professor  collapsed  into  a  chair 
and  Hans  fell  over  against  a  reporter. 

"Frank,"  said  Professor  Scotch,  "I  think  we  had  better 
get  out  of  New  York  without  delay." 

"Yah,"  nodded  the  Dutch  lad;  "uf  we  don'd  done  dot 
you  vos  a  deadt  poy." 

"That  is  right,"  asserted  the  professor.  "This  enemy 
Is  determined  to  succeed,  and  he  will  do  so  before  long.". 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Frank,  quietly.  "He  has 
failed  four  times  within  twenty-four  hours.  I  am  not 
going  to  run  from  him." 

"You  will  not  leave  the  city?" 

"I  will  not  be  driven  out  by  my  unknown  foe.  If  I 
left  he  would  follow  me  and  I  should  be  no  better  off. 
The  matter  has  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  police, 
and  we'll  see  what  they  are  able  to  do.  So  far  it  has  been 


The  Enemy  Unmasked.  69 

a  case  of  fighting  in  the  dark,  for  I  have  not  known  who 
my  enemy  is,  but  he'll  not  be  able  to  keep  his  identity  a 
secret  much  longer." 

Before  Frank  left  the  World  office,  the  watchman  re- 
turned and  said  he  had  been  unable  to  follow  Frank's 
assailant,  although  the  elevator  man  had  carried  the  fel- 
low to  the  first  floor.  The  two  reporters  were  still  trying 
to  track  the  would-be  assassin. 

Frank  was  praised  for  his  nerve  by  almost  every  one 
of  the  reporters  and  editors  before  leaving,  and  his  hand 
was  shaken  till  his  arm  ached. 

Despite  the  frightful  peril  through  which  he  had  passed, 
Frank  resolved  not  to  have  his  sight-seeing  for  the  day 
spoiled,  and,  when  they  reached  the  street,  he  said : 

"We'll  take  lunch  at  a  restaurant,  and  then  make  a  trip 
over  Brooklyn  bridge.  Now — that  we  are  so  near — is 
the  time  to  see  it." 

So  they  went  to  a  restaurant  and  ordered  lunch.  As 
they  were  waiting  to  be  served,  Frank  heard  a  man  be- 
hind them  giving  an  order  at  the  counter. 

The  sound  of  that  man's  voice  brought  Frank  Merri- 
well  to  his  feet  in  a  moment. 

He  saw  the  man  was  one  who  had  come  in  since  they 
entered.  His  back  was  turned  to  Frank,  but  the  boy 
strode  straight  toward  him. 

Just  before  Frank  came  within  reach,  the  man  turned 
and  faced  him  fairly,  then  leaped  erect,  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  dismay. 

As  for  Frank,  he  seemed  stricken  motionless  with 
astonishment  and  incredulity.  His  amazement  was  so 
great  that  he  stood  there,  motionless  and  staring,  faintly 
muttering : 

"Carlos  Merriwell — alive !" 

"Yes,  alive !"  came  lowly  from  the  man. 

Then,  quick  as  a  flash,  he  whirled  and  dashed  toward 
the  door. 

"Stop  that  man !"  shouted  Frank,  as  he  sprang  after  the 
fellow. 

Instantly  there  was  the  utmost  confusion  in  the  place. 
Men  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  at  least  half  a  dozen  of 
them  got  in  Frank's  way.  The  boy  savagely  thrust  them 


70  The  Enemy  Unmasked. 

aside,  but  they  bothered  him  just  enough  to  allow  his 
enemy  to  escape. 

Reaching  the  street,  Frank  saw  his  foe  already  swal- 
lowed in  the  throng  that  literally  packed  the  narrow  side- 
walk at  that  point,  and,  although  he  searched,  he  saw 
nothing  more  of  Carlos  Merriwell. 

Frank  blamed  himself  for  letting  the  fellow  get  away, 
but  it  was  not  strange  that  he  did  so,  for  up  to  the  very 
moment  that  he  saw  the  scarred  face  of  his  pretended  vil- 
lainous cousin  he  had  believed  Carlos  had  perished  in  a 
burning  house  at  Fardale  village.  Naturally,  Frank  was 
stricken  motionless  with  astonishment  for  a  moment  when 
he  saw  the  fellow  alive  before  him. 

Returning  to  the  restaurant,  he  found  the  professor  and 
Hans  waiting  in  a  great  state  of  apprehension. 

As  they  had  attracted  no  small  amount  of  attention 
there,  Frank  left  the  place  immediately. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Professor  Scotch. 

"Direct  to  police  headquarters,"  was  the  reply.  "I  can 
now  give  a  complete  description  of  my  enemy." 

To  police  headquarters  they  went,  and  Frank  told  the 
inspector  what  had  happened  since  they  were  there  some 
hours  before,  and  gave  a  description  of  Carlos  Merriwell. 

When  this  was  over,  it  was  not  strange  that  Frank 
cared  no  more  for  sight-seeing  that  day,  but  preferred  to 
go  straight  to  the  hotel,  where  he  could  meditate  on  his 
remarkable  discovery  that  Carlos  Merriwell  was  still  living. 

As  Carlos  was  the  son  of  Asher  Dow  Merriwell,  to 
whose  property  he  would  have  been  the  legal  heir  if  it 
had  not  been  left  to  Frank  by  will,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  Frank  wished  to  consider  the  situation  somewhat. 

The  professor  and  Hans  found  he  did  not  feel  at  all 
like  answering  questions,  and  so  they  let  him  alone. 

The  Evening  World  contained  the  story  of  Frank's  re- 
markable escapes  from  death,  and  the  following  "scare 
headlines"  were  used : 

"HE  CAN'T  BE  KILLED. 

"Pursued  by  a  Mysterious  and  Deadly  Foe,  Brave  Frank 
Merriwell  Escapes  Every  Danger." 

"Whew!"  whistled  Frank,  when  he  read  the  heading, 


The  Enemy  Unmasked.  71 

"This  is  notoriety.  I'd  escaped  this  if  the  last  attack 
upon  me  hadn't  been  made  in  the  World  building.  Then 
there  was  no  possible  escape." 

Frank  wondered  if  his  foe  would  continue  to  harass 
him  hotly. 

On  the  following  morning  he  received  a  letter  that  was 
postmarked  at  Jersey  City.  It  was  directed  and  written 
in  scrawling  chirography  with  a  lead  pencil.  Tearing 
open  the  envelope,  Frank  read  as  follows : 

"BELOVED  COUSIN:  I  had  a  notion  that  I  was  some- 
what lucky  myself,  but  you  take  the  purse.  However,  I 
am  not  done  with  you  yet.  You  thought  me  burned  to 
death  at  Fardale,  but  I  escaped  from  the  house  and  got 
out  of  town  without  being  seen.  Have  been  watching 
your  movements  since  then,  and  knew  when  you  were 
coming  to  New  York.  I  hired  two  private  detectives 
to  keep  me  posted  constantly,  concerning  your  movements 
and  your  plans,  and  they  'did  their  work  well.  Was  ready 
for  you,  and  meant  to  do  you.  You  have  robbed  me  of 
property  which  is  rightfully  mine,  and  I  do  not  mean  that 
you  shall  enjoy  it.  But  New  York  is  far  too  hot  to  hold 
me  longer,  and  so  I  leave  you  for  a  time.  But  we'll  meet 
again.  Till  then,  farewell,  beloved  cousin! 

"CARLOS  MERRIWELL." 

"That  may  be  a  blind,"  thought  Frank.  "I'll  remain 
on  my  guard  all  the  while." 

But  Frank  was  not  to  be  troubled  further  by  his  vil- 
lainous cousin  while  he  remained  in  New  York  City,  nor 
was  Carlos  Merriwell  captured  by  the  police,  for  he  had, 
indeed,  departed. 

During  the  next  ten  days  Frank  and  his  companions 
enjoyed  the  sights  and  pleasures  of  New  York  to  their 
hearts'  satisfaction,  and  then  they  left  the  metropolis  to 
continue  their  travels,  Hans  and  the  professor  going 
ahead  to  Chicago  and  Frank  first  paying  a  necessary  visit 
to  his  home. 

Although  Frank  did  not  know  it,  Carlos  Merriwell 
had  spoken  truly  when  he  said  they  would  meet  again. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DE  LANCEY  DUNCAN. 

"This  seat  taken?" 

The  question  was  asked  of  Frank,  who  sat  alone,  on 
the  train  bound  West. 

"No,  sir." 

"Good  enough!  I'm  sick  of  riding  in  the  smoker. 
Good  place  in  there  to  cure  hams.  I'll  smell  of  smoke 
for  a  month.  Going  to  Chicago,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Great  village.  Beats  all  creation.  New  York  isn't 
in  it  with  Chicago.  Chicago's  got  hustle,  bustle,  rush,  go, 
snap,  vim,  and  other  things  too  numerous  to  mention. 
It  is  destined  to  be  the  metropolis  of  the  new  world. 
You're  from  the  East?" 

"Yes." 

"I  knew  it.  You  wear  it  all  over  you.  Bet  you  say 
She-car-go.  My  name  is  De  Lancey  Duncan.  Sorry  I 
haven't  a  card.  If  we're  going  to  be  seatmates,  let's  be 
sociable.  What's  your  name?" 

"Frank  Merriwell." 

"That's  first-rate — almost  as  good  as  De  Lancey  Dun- 
can. By  Jove!  I  believe  we  look  something  alike,  and 
we  are  dressed  very  nearly  alike.  Great  Scott!  And 
our  alligator  grips  are  alike !  Say,  Frank  Merriwell,  we 
must  be  careful  not  to  get  mixed." 

Frank  laughed.  There  was  something  rushing,  bus- 
tling, breezy  about  De  Lancey  Duncan — something  ex- 
tremely fresh,  as  it  appeared  to  Frank.  For  all  of  De 
Lancey's  free-and-easy  air,  the  boy  from  the  East  dis- 
trusted him  vaguely.  Yet  it /seemed  to  Frank  that  his 
new  seatmate  lacked  sincerity. 

Frank  Merriwell  was  an  acute  observer ;  he  was  a  stu- 
dent of  human  nature,  and  he  was  not  deceived  very 
often. 

It  was  true  that  they  were  dressed  much  alike;  it  was 


De  Lancey  Duncan.  73 

true  that  their  alligator  grips  were  alike,  and  it  was  true 
that  they  slightly  resembled  each  other  in  other  features. 

Duncan  held  his  grip  on  his  knees,  clinging  fast  to  it. 
Frank's  rested  on  the  floor  at  their  feet. 

The  train  was  running  through  Northern  Indiana. 
Prairie  lands  lay  on  both  sides  of  the  track.  At  times 
they  passed  little  collections  of  wooden  houses,  built  in 
straight  lines,  every  house  looking  like  every  other  house, 
and  all  looking  desolate  and  lonesome,  for  all  of  com- 
panionship. Sometimes  these  little  houses  were  uplifted 
on  posts  that  held  them  free  from  the  ground,  often  they 
were  surrounded  J)y  dirty  children,  and  slattern  women 
lounged  in  the  doors  to  watch  the  train  pass. 

There  were  villages  that  seemed  strangely  flat  and  mo- 
notonous to  Frank's  unaccustomed  eyes.  He  had  begun 
to  feel  bored,  and  had  been  covertly  admiring  the  profile 
of  a  pretty  girl  who  sat  opposite.  De  Lancey  Duncan 
seemed  a  welcome  diversion,  and  then  came  that  feeling 
of  distrust. 

Frank  was  a  believer  in  first  impressions.  He  had 
found  that,  in  almost  every  case,  with  him  first  impres- 
sions were  right  impressions. 

But  he  resolved  to  study  Duncan ;  it  would  take  up  his 
time — give  him  something  for  amusement. 

Having  settled  himself  in  the  seat,  Duncan  looked 
around  nervously. 

Frank  was  watching.  He  saw  Duncan's  eyes  and  the 
eyes  of  the  pretty  girl  opposite  meet,  and  then  the  girl 
looked  away  quickly. 

Duncan  turned  to  Frank  once  more. 

"First  visit  to  Chicago?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"You  will  enjoy  it,"  assured  De  Lancey,  patronizingly. 
"You  can't  help  it.  Now,  I  have  traveled;  I've  been 
around  in  this  country  quite  extensively,  and  I've  crossed 
the  pond.  Ever  been  over?" 

Frank  was  forced  to  confess  that  he  had  not.  De  Lan- 
cey smiled  on  him  in  a  sympathizing,  pitying  way  that 
made  Frank  feel  rather  insignificant — and  rather  angry. 

"It's  pleasant,"  declared  Frank's  new  companion. 
"London  is  a  large  city — larger  than  Chicago.  But 
we've  got  plenty  of  ground  out  here — we  can  expand 


74  De  Lancey  Duncan. 

without  taking  in  Long  Island,  New  Jersey,  and  the  At- 
lantic Ocean.  We're  not  obliged  to  resort  to  any 
'Greater  New  York'  sort  of  scheme.  Now,  you  may  live 
in  New  York;  I  may  be  rapping  you." 

"I  do  not  live  in  New  York,  and  you  are  not  hitting 
me.  Go  on,  I  find  you  very  diverting." 

"Thank  you,"  nodded  De  Lancey,  accepting  Frank's 
words  as  a  compliment.  "As  I  said,  Chicago  has  plenty 
of  room  to  spread  out — she  is  bound  to  spread.  The 
time  is  coming  when  she'll  be  the  largest  city  in  the 
world,  you  bet !" 

"That  is  possible." 

"Possible,  possible !  My  boy,  it  is  certain,  it  is  assured. 
If  you  study  Chicago  fairly  and  without  prejudice,  you 
will  soon  agree  with  me.  Friends  in  the  city  ?" 

"I  expect  so." 

"Expect — what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"That  I  expect  to  meet  some  friends  when  I  arrive 
there." 

"Where  do  you  stop?" 

"Palmer  House." 

"Now,  why  do  you  stop  there?  There  are  other  ho- 
tels— the  Great  Northern,  Grand  Pacific,  Leland,  and  a 
score  more  with  advantages  superior  to  the  Palmer 
House." 

"I  anticipate  that  my  friends  have  arrived  at  the  Pal- 
mer House,  and  engaged  rooms." 

"Oh,  that's  it  ?     That's  different.     How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"We  were  in  New  York  together,  and  I  had  some  busi- 
ness that  took  me  to  my  home.  While  I  attended  to  thr.t, 
my  friends  came  on  to  Chicago,  and  I  followed  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"I  see,  I  see.     Traveling  for  pleasure?" 

"Yes." 

De  Lancey  Duncan  regarded  Frank  with  renewed  in- 
terest. 

"That's  pleasant.     Why  don't  you  go  abroad?" 

"I  am  going;  but  my  uncle  especially  directed  in  his 
will  that  I  was  to  see  something  and  know  something  of 
my  own  country  before  going  abroad.  In  some  respects, 
my  uncle  was  odd  and  original.  Unlike  most  Americans, 
he  believed  that  a  man  should  know  his  own  country  be- 


De  Lancey  Duncan.  75 

fore  visiting  others,  so  he  could  answer  questions.     He 
held  in  derision  the  cads  who  rush  over  to  London  and 
Paris  and  visit  the  Alps  and  the  Rhine  without  having 
seen  Niagara  Falls,  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  Yosemite,    . 
or  Yellowstone  Park." 

Frank  meant  this  for  a  rap,  but  De  Lancey  took  it  as 
cool  as  could  be. 

"Your  uncle  was  quite  right,  Merriwell,"  he  said.  "The 
wonders  of  our  own  country  are  well  worth  seeing.  I 
presume  your  uncle  was  a  rich  old  chump  who  never  saw 
much  of  anything  himself.  Such  old  chaps  always  think 
they  know  a  heap.  They  give  me  lassitude.  About  all 
they  are  good  for  is  to  die  and  leave  their  rocks  to  some 
of  us  young  fellows  who  know  how  to  blow  the  cash." 

Frank  drew  back  from  Duncan,  for  this  sort  of  a  speech 
was  decidedly  offensive. 

But  De  Lancey  did  not  notice  Merriwell's  movement; 
he  was  looking  round  again  in  that  nervous,  excited  way, 
while  his  fingers  seemed  to  clutch  the  alligator  grip  with 
a  tenacious  clasp,  as  if  he  feared  it  would  be  taken  from 
him. 

Something  made  Frank  wonder  what  the  grip  con- 
tained. Why  did  its  owner  cling  to  it  so  persistently  ? 

"There  is  something  about  this  fellow  that's  not  square    , 
and  aboveboard,"  was  Frank's  mental  decision. 

The  train  whistle  blew  for  a  crossing,    and    Duncan 
started,  seeming  to  turn  pale.     Then  he  settled  back  on 
.  the  seat  with  a  breath  of  relief. 

Frank  wondered  still  more.  De  Lancey  Duncan  was 
strangely  nervous  and  excitable  for  a  healthy  youth.  He 
seemed  to  fear  something — seemed  to  dread  some  danger. 

Once  more  Duncan  began  to  talk,  and  he  seemed  to 
rattle  on  in  a  way  intended  to  hide  his  nervousness,  but 
which  made  it  all  the  plainer  to  Frank.  He  insisted  in 
giving  the  lad  from  the  East  "tips"  and  "pointers"  about 
Chicago,  as  he  called  them. 

It  was  not  long  before  Frank  made  a  rather  interesting 
discovery.  Duncan  did  not  seem  to  be  talking  about 
what  he  had  seen  and  knew,  although  he  thus  pretended ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  was  quoting  freely  from  a  guidebook 
that  Frank  had  in  his  grip  at  that  moment. 

That  set  Frank  to  wondering  if  his  companion  was  a 


;6  De  Lancey  Duncan. 

native  of  Chicago,  as  he  plainly  wished  to  appear,  or  if 
he  was  pretending  to  be  a  native  for  some  reason  known 
to  himself  alone. 

Once  or  twice  the  fellow  glanced  in  a  peculiar  manner 
at  the  girl  across  the  aisle,  but,  after  that  first  glance, 
she  seemed  to  notice  him  not  at  all. 

All  at  once  Duncan  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  speech 
and  started. 

The  front  door  of  the  car  had  opened  to  admit  a  rather 
rough-looking  man,  whose  right  leg  had  been  cut  off 
above  the  knee,  and  who  wore  a  stout  wooden  peg  in 
place  of  the  missing  limb.  The  man  had  sandy  whiskers 
around  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  but  his  upper  lip,  his 
cheeks,  and  his  chin  were  shaved.  Somehow  he  looked 
like  an  old  sailor,  and  a  tough  old  sailor  at  that. 

The  man  closed  the  door  hastily,  and  his  eyes  ran  over 
the  faces  of  the  passengers  in  the  car. 

Stump,  thump,  stump,  thump,  stump,  thump— down 
the  aisle  of  the  car  came  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg. 
He  looked  at  De  Lancey  Duncan,  and  De  Lancey  Duncan 
looked  at  him.  The  man  held  his  clinched  left  hand  be- 
fore him,  with  the  thumb,  short  and  stubbed,  pointing 
upward.  De  Lancey  Duncan  caught  his  breath,  and 
nearly  fell  off  the  seat,  dropping  the  alligator  grip. 

Stump,  thump,  stump,  thump — the  man  with  the 
wooden  leg  continued  on  his  way  down  the  aisle. 

The  engine  slowed  up  for  a  station. 

"Excuse  me,"  fluttered  Duncan.  "We  stop  here.  I 
expect  to  see  a  friend  at  the  station.  Will  return  pres- 
ently." 

He  caught  up  the  alligator  grip,  and  hastened  toward 
the  rear  of  the  car. 

"Well,  there's  something  decidedly  queer  about  that, 
or  I'm  a  wooden-headed  Injun!"  thought  Frank  Mem- 
well. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
\s> 

THE  WRECK. 

The  train  stopped.  In  a  moment  a  man  came  into  the 
car  in  which  Frank  Merriwell  was  sitting.  He  was 
dressed  in  black,  and  his  eyes  were  keen  and  piercing. 
He  passed  Frank,  at  whom  he  glanced  sharply,  and  took 
a  seat  directly  behind  the  boy. 

In  a  few  moments  the  train  began  to  move  again,  and 
it  was  soon  drawing  out  of  the  town. 

Frank  looked  for  De  Lancey  Duncan  to  return,  but  that 
youth  did  not  put  in  an  appearance. 

"He  said  he'd  come  back.     Wonder  if  he  has  left  us,'1* 

Frank  took  a  fancy  to  examine  his  guidebook,  and  see 
just  how  accurate  Duncan  had  been  in  his  quotations,  so 
he  picked  up  the  alligator  grip  and  attempted  to  open  it. 
It  did  not  yield  readily  to  his  touch. 

"Didn't  know  I  locked  it,"  muttered  Frank,  as  he 
fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  his  keys,  which  he  quickly 
brought  forth. 

Selecting  the  righ%key,  he  quickly  unlocked  the  grip, 
which  seemed  strangely  stuffed  with  something,  and  im- 
mediately sprang  open  when  released  by  the  lock. 

Then  Frank  Merriwell  uttered  an  exclamation  of  utter 
amazement,  staring  wildly  at  the  contents  of  the  grip. 

For  it  was  stuffed  to  overflowing  with  packages  of 
bright  new  twenty-dollar  banknotes  ! 

Little  wonder  Frank  was  astonished. 

The  girl  across  the  aisle  uttered  a  little  shriek,  and 
seemed  fully  as  amazed  as  Frank. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  gasped  the  boy.  "This  does 
not  belong  to  me !" 

"Very  well,"  said  a  cold,  even  voice  in  Frank's  ear ;  "I 
will  take  charge  of  it,  and  of  you  also." 

A  hand  came  over  the  bewildered  lad's  shoulder  and 
snapped  the  grip  closed,  while  another  hand  fastened  on 
Frank  Merriwell's  collar. 


78  The  Wreck. 

Frank  looked  up  and  saw  the  man  in  black  who  had 
entered  the  car  at  the  last  station. 

"What — what  do  you  mean  ?"  stammered  the  dazed  lad. 
"There  is  some  mistake  here." 

"I  fancy  so,"  smiled  the  man,  grimly,  "and  you  made 
it.  You  can't  work  your  little  game  so  easy.  The 
cipher  message  was  intercepted  and  read.  Result,  you 
are  nabbed." 

"But  I  tell  you  there  is  a  mistake!"  panted  Frank. 
"This  is  not  my  grip!  I  don't  know  how  it  came  here. 
Yes,  I  do!''  he  almost  shouted.  "The  other  fellow — the 
boy  who  looks  like  me — he  dropped  it !" 

"So  there  is  a  boy  who  looks  like  you,"  sarcastically 
asked  the  man  in  black.  "That  gag  is  stale;  it  won't 
work,  my  fly  youngster.  You  are  caught,  and  that's  the 
size  of  it." 

"Wait — listen!  I  am  telling  you  the  truth.  There 
was  another  boy — he  came  and  sat  with  me.  Said  his 
name  was  De  Lancey  Duncan.  He  looked  something 
like  me,  was  dressed  like  me,  carried  an  alligator  grip 
like  mine." 

"Anything  else?" 

"Yes,  lots.     He  acted  nervous." 

"So  do  you." 

"Give  me  a  show ;  I'll  explain  it  all." 

"Go  ahead.  I  am  curious  to  hear  what  kind  of  a  fairy 
tale  you  can  invent." 

"He  talked  about  Chicago,  but,  from  his  talk,  I  mis- 
trusted that  he  had  never  been  there.  He  tried  to  appear 
free  and  easy,  but  he  was  excited." 

"You're  doing  first-rate." 

"Just  before  the  train  pulled  into  the  last  station " 

"Known  as  Valparaiso." 

" a  man  with  sandy  whiskers  and  a  wooden  leg  en- 
tered the  car.  When  he  passed  this  seat,  he  clinched  his 
left  hand  and  held  up  his  thumb — like  this.  My  seatmate 
started  and  dropped  his  grip,  which  he  had  been  carrying 
on  his  knees.  Then,  when  the  train  whistled  for  Val- 
paraiso, he  caught  up  one  of  the  grips  and  dusted  out, 
saying  he  was  going  to  meet  a  friend.  He  must  have 
taken  my  grip  and  left  his  own;  and  he  didn't  come 
back." 


The  Wreck.  9    79 

The  man  in  black  smiled  again.  It  was  a  cold,  in- 
credulous smile. 

''You  do  first-rate,"  he  said,  scoffingly.  "You  have 
concocted  a  fine  story  on  the  spur  of  the  moment;  but  it 
doesn't  go  down  for  a  cent." 

"You  do  not  believe  me  ?" 

"Not  a  great  deal." 

"I  can  prove  it — I  will  prove  it !"  palpitated  Frank,  in 
distress.  "The  young  lady  across  the  aisle — she  saw  him. 
Didn't  you,  miss?" 

The  girl's  face  was  pale,  and  she  shook  her  head. 

"Really,  I  do  not  remember,"  she  declared.  "I  did  not 
notice  him." 

"You  can't  work  the  rifle,  my  hearty,"  said  the  man  in 
black.  "You  answer  the  description,  and  you  are  the 
chap  I  want.  Here,  on  they  go !" 

He  had  produced  a  pair  of  handcuffs,  and  he  attempted 
to  snap  them  on  Frank's  wrists;  but  he  found  that  was 
no  simple  trick,  as  he  quickly  discovered. 

"Wait  a  moment!"  cried  the  lad.  "Tell  me  what  it 
means  first." 

"It  means  that  you  are  arrested." 

"And  you  are  an  officer?" 

"Just  so." 

"It  is  an  outrage!"  cried  Frank.  "I  can  prove  who  I 
am.  I  appeal  to  the  other  passengers.  Surely  some  of 
them  saw  the  other  boy  and  the  man  with  the  wooden 
leg." 

"I  don't  care  if  there  were  twenty  other  boys  and  forty 
men  with  wooden  legs!"  growled  the  officer.  "I  have 
you,  and  you  are  the  chap  I  want.  It  is  useless  to  resist. 
I  shall  have  to  handle  you  roughly  if  you  do,  and " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  crash,  a  shock  that  hurled  man 
and  boy  off  their  feet,  wild  shrieks,  groans,  chaos,  con- 
fusion. 

Bruised,  battered,  bewildered,  Frank  found  himself 
hemmed  in  by  broken  timbers  and  surrounded  by  groan- 
ing and  shrieking  passengers.  He  quickly  understood 
that  there  had  been  a  terrible  accident,  and  the  train  was 
derailed. 

Cars  had  been  smashed  and  splintered,  and  Frank  won- 
dered why  he  was  not  instantly  killed. 


8o  The  Wreck. 

He  found  himself  penned  in  an  arch  of  timbers,  but 
beyond  a  few  severe  bruises  he  seemed  quite  uninjured. 

As  for  the  man  in  black,  he  seemed  to  have  utterly  and 
completely  disappeared. 

"Help!     Save  me!" 

It  was  a  feminine  cry  of  distress,  and  it  sounded  near 
at  hand,  but  Frank  could  see  no  one  in  the  darkness  of 
the  wreckage. 

"Where  are  you?"  he  called. 

"Here,  here — close  at  hand !" 

He  reached  between  some  broken  timbers  and  touched 
the  person  who  had  called.  His  hand  was  clasped  by 
another,  small,  soft,  warm — the  hand  of  a  girl. 

"It  must  be  the  girl  who  sat  opposite,"  thought  Frank. 

Then  he  asked : 

"Are  you  badly  hurt?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer.  "I  am  terribly  shaken 
up,  and  I  cannot  move  here.  Please  get  me  out!" 

"I'll  do  it  if  I  can." 

He  fell  to  work,  but  he  could  not  seem  to  exert  all  his 
strength  in  that  cramped  space.  However,  he  made  some 
progress,  and  she  encouraged  him. 

"You  are  the  boy  who  was  arrested  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  am  the  boy  somebody  tried  to  arrest,"  said  Frank; 
"but  this  accident  made  the  attempt  a  failure." 

"Where  is  that  man?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"He  isn't  with  you  ?" 

"He  doesn't  seem  to  be." 

"Perhaps  he  was  killed." 

It  seemed  to  Frank  that  she  said  this  as  if  she  really 
hoped  such  a  thing  had  happened. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  moments,  Frank  succeeded  in 
making  an  opening  large  enough  to  enable  him  to  drag 
her  through,  and  he  found  it  was  indeed  the  girl  to  whom 
he  had  appealed.  She  did  not  appear  to  be  injured  at 
all. 

"So  far  so  good,"  said  Frank.  "Now  we  must  get 
out  of  this  pen.  Here  seems  to  be  the  remnants  of  a 
car  window.  Possibly  we  may  be  able  to  creep  out 
beyond.  I'll  try  it,  and,  if  I  am  successful,  you  may 
follow." 


The  Wreck.  81 

He  went  ahead,  and,  by  considerable  exertion,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  through  the  opening  and  making  a  way 
to  the  open  air.  Then  he  called  to  the  girl,  and  she  fol- 
lowed him. 

Looking  around,  Frank  beheld  a  scene  of  indescribable 
confusion.  Four  passenger  coaches  had  been  derailed, 
and  were  piled  in  a  confused  heap  beside  the  track.  The 
one  in  which  Frank  had  been  riding  had  suffered  the 
most,  being  shattered  in  a  terrible  manner,  so  that  the  boy 
wondered  how  one  of  its  occupants  had  escaped  a  fright- 
ful death. 

"We  may  consider  ourselves  lucky,"  he  observed  to  the 
girl.  "How  we  pulled  out  so  well  I  do  not  know." 

Men  were  at  work  on  the  wreckage  laboring  to  extri- 
cate the  unfortunate  passengers  pinned  beneath.  Frank 
spoke  to  one  of  them. 

"How  did  the  accident  happen?"  he  asked. 

"Dunno.  Must  have  been  a  defective  axle,  flaw  in  a 
wheel,  or  something  of  that  sort,"  was  the  answer. 

Frank  turned  to  speak  to  the  girl  again,  but  paused  with 
his  mouth  open,  staring  about  him. 

She  was  gone ! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

„.  ESCAPE     AND     PURSUIT. 

"Didn't  stop  to  say  thank  you,"  muttered  Frank. 
"Skipped  without  a  word." 

He  fancied  she  must  be  near  at  hand,  and  something 
caused  him  to  search  about  for  her.  But  she  had  van- 
ished in  a  singular  manner,  and  he  found  no  trace  of  her. 

Then  Frank  set  about  assisting  in  the  work  of  rescue ; 
but  he  found  his  aid  was  not  required,  as  there  were 
already  more  persons  thus  employed  than  could  labor  to 
advantage. 

The  cars  had  not  taken  fire,  consequently  the  horrors 
of  a  conflagration  were  not  added  to  the  catastrophe. 

Frank  was  decidedly  uneasy,  for  he  knew  not  what  mo- 
ment might  witness  him  again  in  the  grasp  of  an  officer  of 
the  law.  He  made  inquiries  concerning  the  possibility  of 
getting  on  to  Chicago  without  delay,  and  was  informed 
that  a  local  train  left  Valparaiso  within  forty  minutes  by 
one  of  the  other  roads  which  passed  through  the  place. 

How  could  he  reach  Valparaiso  within  forty  minutes? 
That  was  a  question  that  began  to  trouble  him. 

The  point  at  which  the  catastrophe  occurred  was  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  main  highway  for  teams,  but  it  was 
a  sure  thing  that  he  could  not  walk  to  Valparaiso  within 
the  time  that  would  elapse  before  the  local  pulled  out  for 
Chicago. 

As  he  was  meditating  on  the  situation  he  observed  a 
bicycle  amid  the  wreck  of  the  baggage  car. 

"Great  Scott!"  muttered  the  boy.  "If  I  owned  that 
wheel,  I  could  make  the  town  and  catch  that  train." 

The  bicycle  did  not  appear  to  be  damaged  at  all,  and 
Frank  wondered  if  he  could  not  find  the  owner  and  buy 
it.  Perhaps  the  owner  was  dead,  but  Frank  decided  to 
look  for  him. 

He  did  not  look  far.  From  the  wreck  he  saw  some 
men  dragging  a  man  whose  clothes  we»-<?  tar»v  *n 


Escape  and  Pursuit.  83 

seemed  to  b'e  somewhat  injured,  although  it  was  evident  at 
a  glance  that  he  was  not  seriously  hurt. 

That  person  was  the  man  in  black — the  very  one  who 
had  attempted  to  arrest  Frank ! 

"Jingoes !"  gasped  the  staring  boy.  "He's  all  right, 
and  he'll  nab  me  if  I  linger  here.  I  must  light  out  lively." 

He  was  right.  The  man  saw  him,  struggled  to  his 
feet,  pointed  a  shaking  finger  at  him,  and  shouted : 

"Stop  that  boy!" 

"I  guess  not!"  palpitated  Frank.  "You'll  have  to  get 
a  hustle  on  if  you  do." 

He  made  a  rush  for  the  baggage  car,  hearing  the  man 
cry  out  something  else,  hearing  other  men  shout  at  him, 
knowing  he  was  liable  to  be  seized  and  detained  if  he  fal- 
tered. 

"I'll  have  to  borrow  that  wheel,  even  if  I  can't  find  the 
owner;  but  I'll  leave  it  at  the  station  in  Valparaiso,  and 
tell  somebody  how  I  came  by  it.  Hope  the  owner  will  get 
it  all  right,  if  he  is  lucky  enough  to  come  out  of  this  scrape 
with  his  life." 

He  grasped  the  wheel,  lifted  it  lightly,  clambered  out  of 
the  ruins,  put  it  down  and  ran  down  toward  the  road, 
pushing  it  along. 

Several  men  were  running  toward  him,  as  he  saw  by 
casting  one  fleeting  glance  over  his  shoulder. 

"Stop !  stop !  You're  wanted !" 

They  were  shouting  at  him,  and  he  set  his  teeth  reso- 
lutely, made  a  flying  leap,  and  landed  in  the  saddle.  His 
feet  caught  the  pedals  in  a  twinkling,  and  he  bent  to  his 
task,  half  laughing : 

"Come  on !  You  are  welcome  to  catch  me — if  you  can." 

For  a  short  distance  the  grass  interfered  with  his  loco- 
motion, but  he  soon  reached  the  road,  into  which  he 
wheeled,  heading  toward  Valparaiso. 

"Stop !"  roared  the  men. 

"Good-by!"  cried  Frank,  with  a  defiant  wave  of  his 
hand. 

Then  he  leaned  far  over  the  handle-bars,  and  worked 
the  pedals,  swiftly.  In  truth,  there  was  little  chance  for 
the  pursuers  to  overtake  Frank  Merriwell  then. 

But  Frank  did  not  know  how  hotly  he  would  be  pur- 


84  Escape  and  Pursuit. 

sued;  he  did  not  know  but  a  team  might  be  pressed  into 
service  to  follow  him. 

"I'll  give  them  a  good  race,  anyway,"  he  muttered. 

In  a  few  moments  he  had  passed  beyond  view  of  the 
wreck,  and  then  he  settled  to  a  pace  that  he  knew  he  could 
hold  straight  through  to  Valparaiso. 

Twice  it  was  necessary  to  make  inquiries  where  other 
roads  crossed  the  one  he  should  follow,  but  within  the 
forty  minutes  he  was  in  the  town. 

Without  difficulty,  he  obtained  directions  to  the  station 
he  was  seeking,  and,  on  arriving  there,  he  was  informed 
that  he  had  ten  minutes  to  wait  for  the  train. 

Frank  disposed  of  the  wheel  he  had  confiscated,  ex- 
plaining that  he  had  taken  it  from  the  wreck,  and,  as  it 
happened,  he  was  the  first  to  bear  intelligence  of  such  a 
wreck  to  the  town.  He  found  himself  questioned,  pes- 
tered, and  pursued  by  astonished  and  incredulous  persons, 
and  he  became  aware  that  he  had  obtained  a  sudden  and 
unenviable  notoriety. 

However,  he  talked  as  little  as  possible,  and  he  took 
care  to  secure  a  ticket  for  Chicago,  as  the  ticket  he  had 
purchased  for  the  other  line  was  taken  up,  and  it  would 
not  have  been  good  over  any  but  the  roads  named  upon  it 
had  he  still  held  it  in  his  possession. 

Frank  was  nervous.  Every  minute  seemed  an  hour, 
and  he  kept  his  eyes  open  for  pursuers.  He  had  a  horror 
of  being  stopped,  of  being  arrested  there.  He  knew  he 
could  not  escape  detention  if  such  a  thing  as  his  arrest 
should  be  made,  and  he  would  be  put  to  trouble  and  ex- 
pense to  prove  his  identity  and  innocence. 

Innocence  of  what  ?  That  puzzled  him.  What  had  De 
Lancey  Duncan  done?  Had  he  stolen  those  crisp  new 
bank  notes  with  which  the  alligator  grip  was  stuffed  ?  "Of 
course  he  had  done  something  unlawful,  for  it  was  certain 
the  officer  had  attempted  to  arrest  Frank  through  a  mis- 
taken belief  that  he  was  Duncan. 

Frank  was  relieved  when  the  train  rolled  in  at  the  sta- 
tion, and  he  made  haste  to  get  aboard.  Still  he  watched 
the  streets  leading  to  the  station — watched  them  with 
keen  anxiety. 

"All  aboard !" 


Escape  and  Pursuit.  85 

The  train  was  going  to  start ;  the  conductor  was  giving 
the  signal. 

Who  was  that?  A  horseman  coming  down  the  street 
at  a  mad  gallop,  the  horse  covered  with  foam,  the  man 
waving  his  hand  wildly. 

"Great  Jupiter !"  gasped  Frank.    "It  is  the  detective !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IN      SPRIGGSBORO. 

The  train  moved;  the  man  was  not  seen  by  any  one 
about  the  station  with  the  exception  of  Frank. 

"Faster !  faster !"  panted  the  boy.  "If  he  makes  them 
see  him,  they  may  stop !" 

He  knew  the  man  was  shouting,  and  he  seemed  to 
hear  his  cries.  Urged  by  voice  and  hand,  the  horse  was 
fairly  tearing  down  the  street. 

But  the  train  was  gaining  speed.  If  the  man  were  not 
seen  in  a  moment,  he  would  not  be  seen  at  all. 

The  sjtation  shut  out  Frank's  view  of  the  horseman. 
The  engine  was  puffing  and  snorting,  the  car  wheels  were 
rolling  faster  and  faster,  and  Frank  Merriwell's  heart 
was  growing  lighter  and  lighter. 

The  train  was  fairly  on  its  way  at  last,  and  the  horse- 
man had  not  been  seen. 

Looking  back,  Frank  saw  the  man  whirl  around  the 
corner  of  the  station  and  gaze  in  angry  disappointment 
after  the  departing  train.  For  a  moment  he  remained 
thus,  then  he  sprang  from  the  horse  to  the  station  plat- 
form, and  rushed  into  the  building. 

"Wonder  what  that  means  ?"  speculated  the  boy.  "He 
is  up  to  some  kind  of  a  game.  By  Jove !  I  know !  He'll 
telegraph  ahead — I'll  be  arrested  at  the  next  station, 
which  is  Spriggsboro !" 

This  thought  put  the  boy  in  anything  but  a  pleasant 
frame  of  mind.  At  first  it  seemed  that  he  would  have 
to  submit  to  arrest,  and  then  prove  his  innocence  of  any 
charge  against  him,  for  he  could  scarcely  conceive  of  any 
other  way  out  of  it. 

But  Frank's  stubborn  side  was  fully  aroused.  He  had 
avoided  arrest  thus  far,  and  he  did  not  fancy  submitting 
now.  He  felt  that  it  would  be  an  acknowledgment  of  his 
inability  to  outwit  the  officer,  and  he  set  about  trying  to 


In  Spriggsboro.  87 

devise  some  scheme  for  escaping  any  person  who  might 
attempt  to  detain  him  at  Spriggsboro,  the  next  station. 

"If  I  escape  there,  all  the  other  stations  will  be  warned 
— I'll  find  officers  everywhere." 

As  he  thought  of  this  he  became  angry.  What  right 
had  any  one  to  arrest  and  detain  him?  He  had  done 
nothing  to  merit  such  treatment,  and  he  would  not  stand 
it. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  say  he  wouldn't  stand  it,  but  how 
was  he  to  get  around  it  ? 

"I'll  try,"  muttered  Frank. 

"Tickets— tickets !" 

The  conductor  was  coming  through  the  train.  When 
he  reached  Frank  he  asked  the  boy  if  he  were  going 
straight  through  without  stop.  Frank  did  not  know,  and 
he  said  he  might  have  to  stop  off  somewhere  before  he  got 
into  the  city.  So  the  conductor  punched  his  ticket  and 
handed  it  back  to  him. 

Frank  wanted  to  ask  questions;  he  opened  his  mouth 
to  do  so,  closed  it  again. 

"No,"  he  thought;  "I'll  not  call  too  much  attention  to 
myself.  If  I  should  ask  too  many  questions,  I  might 
somehow  give  away  what  I  decided  to  do.  I'll  keep  mum ; 
I'll  go  it  alone." 

From  Valparaiso  to  Spriggsboro  is  seven  miles.  Frank 
was  on  the  watch  for  Spriggsboro.  He  did  not  propose 
to  be  taken  into  the  town  without  knowing  it;  he  was 
ready  for  a  move. 

It  did  not  take  many  minutes  to  make  the  run.  The 
engine  gave  a  wild,  doleful  wail,  after  the  fashion  of  all 
the  engines  of  the  local  trains  running  into  Chicago.  A 
brakeman  flung  open  the  door  of  the  car  and  squealed : 

"Spreegs-burrah !    Spre-egs-burrah !" 

"Now's  my  time,"  thought  Frank.  "If  I'm  going  to 
skip,  I  must  get  a  move  on  right  away." 

He  was  in  the  last  car.  He  arose  and  carelessly  saun- 
tered toward  the  rear.  Opening  the  door,  he  stepped  out 
Dn  the  platform.  A  moment  later  he  was  down  on  the 
steps,  looking  for  a  chance  to  swing  to  the  ground. 

Fortunately,  there  was  no  other  person  on  the  platform, 
ind  Frank  found  he  was  not  to  be  hampered  in  any  way. 
The  train  was  not  a  lightning  express,  and  he  believed  he 


88  In  Spriggsboro. 

could  make  the  jump  successfully.  Anyway,  he  was  de- 
termined to  make  the  attempt. 

The  town  limits  had  been  entered;  ahead  was  a  cross- 
ing. 

"I'll  try  it  there." 

He  made  ready,  swung  down,  let  go,  struck  on  his  feet 
like  a  cat,  ran  with  the  train,  and  did  not  fall. 

"Very  well,"  breathed  the  boy,  with  deep  satisfaction, 
as  he  stopped  to  stare  after  the  train,  thrusting  his  hat 
back  on  his  head  and  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets. 
"What  next?" 

"Say,  you're  a  dandy — you  are !  You  did  the  trick  slick, 
and  that's  straight  goods." 

Frank  looked  around.  A  boy  sat  in  a  carriage  near  at 
hand,  clinging  fast  to  the  reins  which  lay  along  the  back 
of  a  dancing  young  horse.  The  horse  had  spirit  and 
snap,  and  it  was  plain  the  boy  had  driven  him  as  near  the 
cars  as  possible,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  the  animal  ac- 
customed to  them. 

"Out  of  the  road,"  he  called  to  Frank.  "Ginger  wants 
to  go,  and  when  Ginger  wants  to  go  it  isn't  so  very  easy 
to  hold  him.  I  don't  want  to  run  you  down." 

"Don't  do  it,"  said  Frank.  "Hold  on  a  minute ;  I  want 
to  chin  with  you." 

"Fire  away,  but  make  it  lively.  Ginger  is  getting 
more  an'  more  excited.  He  doesn't  like  to  stand.  Whoa, 
there — whoa,  pony!" 

"He  seems  to  be  a  mettlesome  animal.     Can  he  travel  ?" 

"You  bet !   He's  a  flyer !" 

"Whose  horse  is  he?" 

"Mine." 

"So?" 

"Yep.  Dad  gave  him  to  me  if  I'd  stay  at  home  another 
year.  You  see,  I'd  tired  of  Spriggsboro,  and  I'm  sick  of 
hoeing  corn.  I  want  to  see  the  world — I  want  to  see 
life — whoa,  Ginger !  Easy,  boy !  Say,  if  you  talk  with  me, 
you'll  have  to  get  in  here.  Can't  make  him  stand  any 
longer." 

"In  it  is." 

A  moment  later  Frank  was  seated  beside  Ginger's  own- 
er, who  gave  the  lively  young  horse  rein,  and  away  they 
went. 


In  Spriggsboro.  89 

"Say,"  said  Frank,  "perhaps  you  are  the  very  person 
I  am  looking  for.  Do  you  want  to  make  five  dollars  ?" 

"Doll  Well,  say !  I  don't  get  hold  of  V's  every  day. 
Do  I !  See  me  smile !" 

"I  found  myself  on  the  wrong  route,"  explained  Frank. 
"Didn't  want  to  lose  time,  and  so  I  dropped  off  here  to 
look  for  somebody  to  set  me  right." 

The  stranger  boy  looked  puzzled.  It  was  plain  this  ex- 
planation did  not  quite  satisfy  him ;  but  he  refrained  from 
asking  questions.  He  would  not  seem  to  insinuate  that 
Frank  was  not  telling  him  the  truth. 

As  for  Frank,  he  was  bound  to  stick  as  close  to  the 
truth  as  possible.  Surely  he  had  found  himself  on  the 
wrong  route.  He  could  not  tell  everything ;  it  would  not 
do  to  tell  too  much. 

"Now,"  continued  Frank,  "I  want  to  get  out  of  this 
place  right  away.  What's  the  name  of  the  railroad  to  the 
north  of  this  town  ?" 

"Baltimore  and  Ohio." 

"That's  it.  What's  the  name  of  the  nearest  station  on. 
the  Baltimore  and  Ohio?" 

"There  are  two  about  the  same  distance  from  here,  and 
they're  McCool  and  Coburg.  If  anything,  I  reckon  Mc- 
Cool  is  the  nearer." 

"Let's  see — which  place  is  nearer  Chicago?" 

"McCool  by  nearly  twenty  miles  as  the  railroad  runs." 

"How  far  is  it  to  McCool  ?" 

"Some  say  ten,  some  say  twelve  miles." 

"Trains  run  often  over  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio?" 

"Pretty  often." 

"How  is  the  road  to  McCool  ?" 

"Good." 

"Land  me  there  within  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  V." 

"It's  a  bargain!  I'll  have  to  drive  home  to  let  dad 
know,  but  that's  on  the  road.  I'd  like  to  strike  this  sort 
of  a  snap  every  day.  Don't  worry,  Ginger;  you'll  have 
plenty  of  chance  to  stretch  your  legs  between  here  and 
McCool." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

INTO     C  H 1C AGO. 

And  so,  with  scarcely  any  delay,  without  being  molested 
at  all,  Frank  left  Spriggsboro  behind,  and  found  himself 
being  whirled  across  the  country  toward  McCool. 

The  autumn  air  was  crisp  and  bracing,  but  the  sun 
shone  brightly,  and  Frank's  blood  seemed  to  circulate 
more  freely  in  his  veins. 

The  boy  who  owned  the  team  said  his  name  was  Tom 
Morgan,  and  the  two  lads  were  soon  pretty  well  ac- 
quainted. 

Tom  was  a  lively  sort  of  lad,  and  he  was  afflicted  with 
a  burning  desire  to  get  away  from  Spriggsboro  and  his 
father's  farm. 

"Was  born  and  raised  out  here,"  he  said.  "Never  saw 
any  city  but  Chicago,  never  saw  any  water  but  Lake 
Michigan,  never  saw  any  hills  worth  mentioning.  I'm 
sick  of  prairie  land,  I'm  sick  of  most  everything  around 
here.  Where  are  you  from?  Did  you  ever  see  the 
ocean  ?" 

Then  Frank  proceeded  to  entertain  Tom,  so  that  the 
drive  to  McCool  seemed  remarkably  short  to  the  latter. 

Frank  kept  looking  his  companion  over.  They  were 
nearly  of  the  same  height  and  build.  The  cloths  that 
would  fit  one  ought  to  fit  the  other. 

"When  they  find  I  have  jumped  'em  at  Spriggsboro,  it's 
ten  to  one  my  description  will  be  dispatched  to  every  sta- 
tion in  Chicago.  The  police  will  be  on  the  watch  for  me ; 
I'll  be  nabbed  when  I  arrive  in  the  city." 

Such  a  thing  was  not  pleasant  for  Frank  to  contem- 
plate, and  he  fell  to  studying  on  a,  scheme  to  defeat  the 
officers.  Tom  Morgan  was  rather  roughly  dressed,  his 
clothes  being  in  strong  contrast  to  the  natty  traveling  suit 
worn  by  Frank. 

"Look  here,  Tom,"  Frank  finally  said;  "I'm  going  to 
tell  you  something." 


Into  Chicago.  91 

"Let  it  come." 

"First,  I  want  you  to  take  a  square  look  at  me,  and  say 
if  you  think  I'm  crooked." 

"Not  on  your  life!"  was  the  prompt  return.  "You're 
white;  I  can  see  it  sticking  out  all  over  you  bigger'n  a 
house." 

"Thank  you,  Tom.  Now  I  will  tell  you  just  why  I  am 
jumping  from  Spriggsboro  to  McCool." 

"I  know,"  grinned  Tom. 

"You  do?"  cried  Frank,  startled. 

"That's  what." 

"Then  why  am  I  doing  so?" 

"You're  running  away,"  declared  Morgan,  astutely. 
"Oh,  I  suspected  it  in  the  first  place,  and  now  I'm  sure 
of  it." 

"Well,  I  am,"  admitted  Frank. 

However,  he  did  not  explain  from  whom  he  was  run- 
ning away ;  he  left  that  as  a  matter  for  Tom's  imagination 
to  work  on. 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  asserted  the  young  owner  of  the 
team,  "i've  been  tempted  to  run  away  myself.  By  jinks ! 
I'm  liable  to  do  it  some  time !" 

"Well,  now,"  said  Frank,  "it's  likely  my  description  has 
been  sent  on  ahead,  and  I  run  a  good  chance  of  getting 
nabbed  almost  inywhere." 

"Likely.1' 

"I  don't  want  to  be  nabbed." 

"I  believe  KM 

"And  I'm  going  to  try  to  fool  'em." 

"Godhead!" 

"Now,  Tom,  my  clothes  are  a  give-away,  and  I  want 
to  get  rid  of  them.  They  ought  to  fit  you  all  right,  and 
yours  ought  to  fit  me.  Let's  exchange." 

Tom's  eyes  bulged. 

"I'd  like  to,"  he  admitted,  "but  I  ain't  got  the  money 
to  pay  the  difference." 

"There  won't  be  any  difference  to  pay." 

"What?" 

"We'll  trade  even.  I'll  take  your  outfit,  and  you  may 
have  mine.  It  will  be  a  favor  to  me,  for  it  may  enable  me 
to  avoid  pursuit.  What  do  you  say?" 

"Done." 


92  Into  Chicago. 

Out  on  the  prairie  where  there  were  no  houses  near 
the  team  stopped,  and  the  two  lads  proceeded  to  exchange 
clothing.  It  did  not  take  them  long  to  make  the  shift, 
and  it  made  a  remarkable  alteration  in  the  appearance  of 
both. 

Frank's  clothes  fitted  Tom  as  if  they  had  been  made 
for  him,  and  the  country  boy  was  changed  into  a  rather 
spruce-looking  chap. 

"Get  your  hair  cut,  Torn,  and  you'll  look  fine,"  said 
Frank. 

The  change  in  Merriwell  was  equally  as  marked.  The 
clothes  seemed  to  transform  him  into  a  decidedly  ordi- 
nary-appearing boy,  if  one  did  not  regard  his  sharp,  clear- 
cut  face  too  closely.  He  pulled  Tom's  old  lop-brimmed 
hat  far  down  on  his  head,  so  his  neatly  trimmed  hair  was 
concealed. 

This  being  done,  they  jumped  into  the  carriage  again, 
and  away  Ginger  whirled  them  toward  McCool. 

"Now,  Tom,"  said  Frank,  "I  want  you  to  do  me  still 
another  favor." 

"Name  it." 

"When  you  return  to  Spriggsboro,  I  want  you  to  go 
directly  home,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  show  yourself  in 
town  before  this  evening." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  don't  want  any  one  to  question  you  and  find 
out  how  you  obtained  these  clothes,  unless  you  are  forced 
to  tell  your  own  folks  the  truth.  I  want  to  have  plenty 
of  time  to  get  away  without  being  stopped  before  it  gets 
abroad  that  I  am  not  dressed  as  usual.  Do  you  see  ?" 
<  "Sure." 

"And  you'll  do  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Good !  I'll  make  that  V  an  X,  and  here  it  is." 

He  gave  Tom  a  ten-dollar  bill,  which  was  received  with 
an  exclamation  of  satisfaction. 

"Say!"  cried  Tom  Morgan,  "won't  I  sport  around 
Spriggsboro  for  a  while !  Well,  I  should  murmur !" 

Before  long  McCool  was  seen  in  the  distance. 

"I'll  leave  you  outside  the  town,"  said  Frank.  "I'll 
walk  in.  I'm  bound  to  do  this  business  in  a  way  that  will 
enable  me  to  escape  detection  if  possible." 


Into  Chicago.  93 

So  the  horse  was  stopped  beyond  the  limits  of  the  place, 
and  the  boys  bade  each  other  good-by. 

"I  won't  forget  you,  Frank,"  declared  Tom;  "and  I 
hope  we'll  meet  again  some  time." 

"Hope  so,"  said  Frank.     "Good-by." 

"Good-by." 

Tom  turned  Ginger  back  toward  Spriggsboro,  and 
Frank  trudged  into  McCool.  He  had  the  appearance  of 
a  country  boy,  the  walk  of  a  country  boy,  and — strangest 
of  all — his  face  had  changed  till  it  looked  like  the  face  of 
a  rather  stupid  country  boy. 

Merriwell  was  a  natural  actor  and  mimic.  He  was 
continually  studying  characters,  and  he  had  practiced  in 
altering  the  expression  of  his  face.  And  now  the  friends 
who  knew  him  best  might  have  passed  him  on  the  road 
without  recognizing  him. 

Straight  to  the  railroad  station  he  made  his  way,  and 
he  found  he  had  time  to  secure  a  square  meal  before  the 
next  train  departed  for  Chicago.  As  Frank  was  decided- 
ly hungry,  he  secured  the  meal. 

It  was  not  far  from  mid-afternoon  when  he  found  him- 
self on  a  train  bound  for  Chicago.  He  was  keeping  up 
his  assumed  character  of  a  rather  dull  country  boy,  for  he 
did  not  know  who  might  be  a  detective  on  that  very  train. 

It  was  not  long  after  leaving  McCool  before  he  obtained 
his  first  view  of  Lake  Michigan,  the  waters  of  which,  to 
his  surprise,  were  dashing  in  dirty  green  waves  against 
the  wooden  pilings  which  protected  the  banks.  Frank 
had  not  expected  that  a  fresh  water  lake  would  appear 
that  color. 

Naturally,  he  felt  nervous,  for  he  knew  not  what  might 
happen  when  Chicago  was  reached. 

Through  the  outlying  towns  and  suburbs  the  train  ran, 
and  it  seemed  to  Frank  that  the  station  would  never  be 
reached,  even  after  he  knew  they  had  been  in  the  city  of 
Chicago  some  time. 

At  last,  however,  the  train  pulled  into  the  Baltimore 
and  Ohio  Station  on  Fifth  avenue,  and  Frank  knew  that 
he  was  finally  in  Chicago.  He  left  the  train  without 
being  troubled,  and,  unmindful  of  the  howling  carriage 
drivers,  entered  the  station. 

Just  ahead  of  him  he  observed  a  girl  who  was  carrying 


94  Into  Chicago. 

an  alligator  grip  that  was  strangely  like  the  one  he  had 
lost.  Something  led  him  to  hasten  his  steps  till  he  ob- 
tained a  fair  look  at  her  face. 

He  came  near  uttering  a  cry  of  astonishment. 

"Caesar's  ghost!"  he  gasped.  "It's  the  girl  I  saved 
from  the  wreck  1" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PLAYING     THE     SHADOW. 

Frank  Merriwell  had  an  excellent  memory  for  faces; 
he  seldom  forgot  a  face  he  had  once  seen  and  taken  note 
of,  and  he  knew  he  was  not  mistaken  in  this  case. 

"Caesar's  ghost!"  he  repeated.  "Where  did  she  drop 
from?" 

She  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than  eighteen  years  of 
age,  but  she  had  a  self-reliant,  independent  air  that  fasci- 
nated Frank  and  filled  him  with  wonder.  Plainly  she 
was  a  girl  who  cared  little  for  the  services  of  a  chaperon. 

Having  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  beyond  a  doubt 
the  girl  he  had  dragged  from  the  wreck,  the  boy's  eyes 
fell  again  on  the  alligator  grip  she  carried. 

"Is  it  mine,  or  is  it  De  Lancey  Duncan's?"  speculated 
Frank.  "If  it's  mine,  I  want  it ;  if  it's  Duncan's,  I  don't 
want  it,  for  all  of  the  money  it  contains.  That  money's 
bound  to  get  somebody  into  trouble." 

He  would  have  given  much  to  know  for  a  certainty 
whether  the  grip  belonged  to  him  or  not.  It  attracted 
him,  it  filled  him  with  doubts  and  fears,  it  dragged  him 
.after  the  girl  like  a  loadstone. 

"If  she'd  stop !     If  she'd  open  the  grip !" 

But  he  knew  there  was  not  one  chance  in  ten  thou- 
sand that  she  would  do  anything  of  the  sort.  Still,  he 
followed  her,  watching  the  grip  with  his  keen  eyes. 

The  girl  left  the  station  for  the  street,  where  horse  cars 
and  cabs  were  plentiful.  She  moved  to  the  corner  of 
Fifth  avenue  and  Harrison  street,  and  there  she  stood, 
looking  first  one  way  and  then  the  other.  She  seemed 
somewhat  perplexed. 

"Expected  to  meet  somebody  here,"  thought  Frank. 
"Somebody  isn't  on  hand.  She  doesn't  know  what  to 
do.  Will  she  take  a  car,  or  will  she  not — which  will 
she?" 

A  cab  driver  spotted  her.    He  approached  her,  and 


96  Playing  the  Shadow. 

asked  her  to  patronize  him.  At  first  she  shook  her  head, 
but  he  continued  to  urge  her.  She  took  out  a  small  gold 
watch  and  glanced  at  it,  after  which  she  asked  him 
some  questions,  in  reply  to  all  of  which  he  nodded,  and 
said: 

"Of  course  I  can !  I  know  every  foot  of  the  city.  I'll 
take  you  right  there." 

Frank  heard  him  say  that,  and  straightway  Frank  be- 
gan to  look  around  for  another  cab,  for  he  saw  the  girl 
hesitate,  and  then  move  along  with  the  man. 

"Look  out,  my  boy,"  muttered  Frank  to  himself ;  "look 
out,  or  you'll  be  left." 

"Cab,  sir— cab?" 

Frank  glanced  toward  the  girl.  She  was  just  entering 
a  cab,  and  he  resolved  to  follow  her.  A  red-faced,  sandy- 
bearded  cabby  had  hailed  him,  and  he  was  at  the  man's 
side  in  a  moment. 

"Look!"  he  said,  swiftly.  "See  that  girl  getting  into 
that  cab?" 

"Sure." 

"I  want  to  follow  her." 

Cabby  looked  Frank  over,  and  the  latter  actually  blushed 
as  he  suddenly  remembered  that  he  looked  awkward  and 
countryfied. 

"Do  I  git  me  fare  in  advance  ?"  asked  the  driver. 

In  a  moment  Frank  produced  a  five-dollar  bill,  which 
he  thrust  into  the  fellow's  greedy  hand,  asking : 

"Is  that  enough  ?" 

"You  bet !  I'll  foller  'em  anywhere  in  the  city's  limits. 
Tumble  in." 

"If  you  have  to  go  beyond  the  limits,  I'll  pay  extra. 
But  you  mustn't  let  the  other  fellow  get  away." 

"He  can't  lose  this  child;  don't  you  worry  about  that, 
young  feller." 

Frank  plunged  into  the  cab,  the  door  slammed,  the  man 
sprang  up  to  his  seat,  his  whip  snapped,  and  away  they 
went  on  the  trail  of  the  other  cab. 

"Never  tried  playing  detective  before,"  muttered  the 
boy  in  the  cab.  "It's  new  business  to  me,  but  there  may 
be  something  in  it.  I  want  my  grip,  but  I  want  to  know 
more  than  anything  else  if  the  grip  she  has  contains  all 


Playing  the  Shadow.  97 

that  money  or  not.  If  so,  she's  sacking-  around  a  fortune 
in  a  mighty  cool  way.  She's  got  nerve  to  let." 

Up  Harrison  street,  over  the  river,  that  was  crowded 
with  all  sorts  of  craft,  and  away,  winding  in  and  out,  here 
and  there,  went  the  two  cabs. 

Looking  from  the  window,  Frank  sometimes  caught 
glimpses  of  the  cab  he  was  pursuing,  and  he  began  to  be- 
lieve his  driver  was  attending  strictly  to  business. 

The  quarter  of  the  city  into  which  they  soon  plunged 
was  wretched  and  dingy,  and  Frank  fancied  that  the  very 
air  was  heavy  with  soft  coal  smoke.  The  pedestrians  on 
the  streets  had  a  dingy  look,  and  cheap  eating  houses 
abounded. 

From  that  section  they  entered  yet  another,  where 
clothing  stores  abounded,  all  being  of  the  Cheap  John 
class. 

All  at  once,  the  cab  turned  sharply  about,  went  back 
around  a  corner,  and  stopped. 

Cabby's  florid  face  appeared  at  the  door  in  a  moment. 

"Lively,  young  feller,"  he  said.  "They're  around  there 
to  the  right.  She's  gittin'  out.  Get  a  move  on,  and  you 
won't  lose  her !" 

"Good  work !"  complimented  Frank,  as  he  sprang  out, 
"Here,  take  it !  You've  done  first-rate." 

He  thrust  a  silver  dollar  into  the  man's  hand. 

Without  stopping  to  hear  cabby's  thanks,  Frank  walked 
briskly  round  the  corner. 

Sure  enough,  half  a  block  away  was  the  cab  he  had 
hired  the  fellow  to  follow.  The  girl  had  left  it,  and  she 
was  settling  with  the  driver.  There  seemed  to  be  some 
disagreement,  and  the  %  girl  appeared  decidedly  angry. 
Finally,  she  gave  the  man  some  money,  and  he  tipped  his 
hat,  sullenly. 

Then  the  girl  walked  on  briskly,  and  the  man  stared 
after  her,  muttering  aloud. 

Frank  struck  out  after  the  girl,  and,  as  he  passed  the 
cab  driver,  he  heard  the  man  growl: 

"That  chick's  altogether  too  fly  for  her  age.  Said  I 
overcharged.  And  now  she's  sprinting  it!  Didn't  let 
me  take  her  all  the  way  to  the  place  where  she  wants  to 
go !  That's  odd !" 

"You're  right,"  thought  Frank,  as  he  hurried  onward; 


98  Playing  the  Shadow. 

"but  there  are  plenty  of  odd  things  connected  with  that 
young  lady.  This  has  been  a  day  of  odd  happenings,  and 
they  may  not  be  all  over  yet." 

The  girl  turned  a  corner,  looking  back  as  she  did  so. 
She  looked  straight  past  Frank,  not  seeming  to  notice  him 
at  all.  If  she  had  looked  straight  at  the  boy,  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  she  would  have  recognized  in  the  slouching,  awk- 
ward, country  boy  the  neat  and  natty  youth  who  dragged 
her  from  the  railroad  wreck  earlier  in  the  day. 

The  girl  did  not  stop ;  she  hastened  along  the  street  into 
which  she  had  turned,  little  dreaming  there  was  a  trailer 
not  far  behind. 

To  Frank  it  seemed  that  she  was  trying  to  make  sure 
she  was  not  followed,  and  the  boy  lost  little  time  in  tak- 
ing the  opposite  side  of  the  street;  but  he  did  not  lose 
sight  of  her  for  a  single  instant. 

Another  corner  was  reached  by  the  girl,  and  she  came 
near  colliding  with  a  young  fellow  who  came  from  an- 
other direction,  carrying  an  alligator  grip  in  his  hand. 

Frank  stared,  and  gasped  : 

"De  Lancey  Duncan !" 

It  was  the  breezy  youth  who  had  occupied  the  seat  with 
him  on  the  train. 

The  grip  which  he  carried  was  the  counterpart  of  the 
one  in  the  possession  of  the  girl. 

"One  of  them  belongs  to  me !"  palpitated  Frank.  "It 
must  be  the  one  Duncan  has,  for  he  got  away  with  mine. 
The  other  contains  the  money,  I  guess." 

De  Lancey  Duncan  and  the  girl  both  seemed  aston- 
ished. They  stared  at  each  other,  and  the  grips  they  car- 
ried. Then  they  spoke,  and  in  a  moment  they  were  talk- 
ing earnestly. 

"They  know  each  other !"  came  faintly  from  the  lips  of 
Frank,  who  was  nearly  knocked  breathless  by  this  discov- 
ery. "May  I  be  shot !" 

With  every  moment,  Frank's  interest  and  excitement 
were  increasing.  He  was  mystified,  perplexed,  bewil- 
dered. 

The  girl  seemed  to  be  accusing  De  Lancey  Duncan  of 
something,  and  he,  at  first,  was  too  astounded  to  reply. 
When  he  would  have  opened  the  grip  he  carried,  she 


Playing  the  Shadow.  99 

stopped  him,  and  Frank  fancied  he  understood  what  had 
passed  between  them. 

"She  charged  him  with  making  a  blunder  and  getting 
the  wrong  grip.  That  must  be  it." 

All  at  once,  boy  and  girl  turned  and  walked  along  the 
street  together. 

Frank  followed. 

Before  long  they  came  to  a  miserable  little  clothing 
store,  over  the  narrow  door  of  which  was  the  name  of  the 
proprietor — Solomon  Moses.  Into  this  store  they  went, 
without  hesitation. 

"I  mustn't  get  left  now,"  muttered  Frank,  as  he  hastily 
made  his  way  across  the  street  and  followed  them  into  the 
store. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LEFT    TO    THE    FLAMES. 

Frank  walked  in,  boldly.  As  he  did  so,  he  If  3rd  a 
Jewish  voice  saying: 

"So  you  dit  got  along  all  righd?  I  don'd  igsbect  you 
ven  I  hear  vat  Meesther  Sullifan  hat  to  say.  I  don'd 
know  but  you  pote  been  arresdet  pefore  dis." 

"Oh,  we're  too  soon  for  the  cops,  uncle,"  assured  the 
girl,  airily.  "But  Bob  would  have  made  a  mess  of  it  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  me.  You  see,  he " 

"Nefer  mindt  dat  here,"  said  the  old  Jew,  swiftly  check- 
ing her.  "Meeshter  Sullifan  vos  in  der  pack  room,  untf 
he  peen  glat  to  see  you.  Valk  righd  in." 

He  flung  open  the  door,  and  the  boy  and  girl  entered 
the  back  room.  As  they  did  so,  Frank  saw  the  same 
wooden-legged  man  who  had  been  on  the  train  come 
stumping  toward  them. 

Then  Frank  allowed  the  door  to  slam,  and  Mr.  Solomon 
Moses  turned  and  hobbled  painfully  toward  the  front  of 
the  store,  adjusting  a  pair  of  spectacles  on  his  nose.  Moses 
was  an  old  man,  as  the  gray  in  his  hair  and  beard  indi- 
cated, to  say  nothing  of  his  decrepit  gait  and  bent  back. 

"Vot  coot  I  do  vor  you,  mine  friendt?"  he  asked, 
blandly,  looking  Frank  over.  "You  vant  a  suid  er  clodes 
to-day,  young  shentleman  ?" 

"Wai,  I  dunno,"  drawled  Frank,  staring  around.  "I 
kinder  guess  not,  for  I  hain't  got  much  money;  but  I'm 
short  of  handkerchiefs,  and  marm  she  told  me  to  git  some 
while  I  was  in  the  city.  I  didn't  know  but  I'd  strike  a 
trade  in  here." 

"Dot  vos  righd,  mine  son — dot  vos  righd.  I  nefer  gif 
you  any  ding  but  a  pargain.  I  vos  goin'  oud  uf  drade 
pime-py,  and  I  peen  sellin'  eferyding  sheap.  Vot  you  haf 
— von  tozen  uf  dose  peautiful  ret  pandanna  handkershiefs, 
vot  sell  eferyvare  else  vor  dirty  sends  abiece,  but  vot  I 
iell  vor  fifteen  sends,  dwo  for  a  gwarder,  four  for  hallefer 


Left  to  the  Flames.  101 

tollar?  You  don'd  peat  dot  vor  a  drade  der  whole  cidy 
in,  young  shentleman." 

Moses  hastened  to  display  his  handkerchiefs,  and  Frank 
pretended  to  look  them  over.  All  the  while  the  boy  was 
longing  to  walk  straight  into  that  back  room  and  claim 
his  grip. 

Frank  began  to  think  he  had  reached  the  end  of  his 
rope.  He  had  followed  the  girl  to  that  place,  had  seen  her 
meet  De  Lancey  Duncan,  had  seen  them  both  met  by  the 
man  with  the  wooden  leg ;  but  what  did  it  amount  to,  after 
all?  He  had  not  solved  the  mystery  of  the  gripful  of 
money ;  he  had  not  even  recovered  his  own  grip. 

What  kind  of  a  shop  was  this  he  found  himself  in  ?  He 
looked  around  at  the  miserable  stock,  illy  shown  by  the 
light  which  sifted  through  the  small,  dirty  windows,  and 
he  could  not  conceive  that  the  old  Jew  made  a  living  by 
selling  clothing. 

The  face  of  the  aged  Jew  was  that  of  a  scoundrel,  and 
Frank  began  to  believe  he  had  been  led  to  a  den  of  crooks. 

Still,  it  was  hard  to  believe  that  the  pretty  girl  knew 
anything  of  crooked  ways. 

How  had  De  Lancey  Duncan  come  by  so  much  money, 
unless  it  had  been  stolen?  If  it  had  been  stolen,  Frank 
could  readily  understand  why  the  officer  had  tried  to  ar- 
rest him. 

Frank  was  thinking  of  going  out  and  telling  his  story  to 
the  police,  when  he  heard  a  wild  shriek  from  somewhere 
in  the  back  of  the  building.  The  shriek  was  followed  by 
other  cries,  and,  a  few  seconds  later,  a  woman  came  burst- 
ing out  of  the  back  room,  screaming : 

"Fire!  Fire!  Solomon — Solomon  Mosesh,  der  gazo- 
lene  sdove  vos  igsbloded,  und  der  puilding  vos  afire !" 

"Veil,  don'd  peen  so  igscidet,  Repecca,"  advised  the  old 
Jew,  coolly.  "I  haf  eferyding  insured  vor  touble  vat  it 
vos  vort.  Uf  der  vire  engin'  don'd  ged  aroundt  too  soon, 
dot  vire  been  a  britty  coot  thing  vor  us." 

Smoke  began  to  roll  out  of  the  back  of  the  building, 
and  Frank  Merriwell  saw  his  opportunity.  In  a  moment 
he  darted  into  the  back  room,  as  if  hurrying  to  aid  in  ex- 
tinguishing the  fire. 

But  he  did  not  reach  the  room  in  which  the  fire  was. 


102  Left  to  the  Flames. 

On  a  table  in  the  first  room  he  entered  he  saw  both  of  the 
alligator-skin  grips. 

"I  am  bound  to  recover  my  property,"  he  muttered. 
"But  I  wonder  which  one  belongs  to  me  ?" 

He  could  not  tell  without  opening  them,  and  he  imme- 
diately unclasped  the  one  nearest  at  hand.  It  was  not 
locked ;  it  flew  open  in  a  twinkling. 

And  once  more  Frank  Merriwell  gazed  in  fascination  on 
those  packages  of  bright,  new  twenty-dollar  bills  ! 

Frank  must  have  stood  thus  some  seconds,  spellbound 
and  staring ;  but  he  finally  awoke,  as  from  a  trance,  as  the 
smoke  was  swiftly  growing  dense  in  that  room. 

"This  does  not  belong  to  me,"  he  said,  aloud;  "there- 
fore, the  other  grip  must  be  mine." 

He  grasped  it.  As  he  did  so,  he  realized  there  was 
some  one  close  behind  him.  A  voice  cried : 

"Drop  that!" 

"Not  much !"  flashed  Frank.     "It's  mine !" 

He  whirled,  to  confront  De  Lancey  Duncan.  No 
longer  did  Frank  try  to  alter  the  expression  of  his  face 
and  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Duncan  knew  him,  and  stag- 
gered in  amazement,  gasping : 

"It's — it's  the  fellow  I  met  on  the  train — the  fellow  I 
changed  grips  with!" 

"You're  right !"  rang  out  Frank's  voice.  "I  have  traced 
my  grip  here,  and  I  mean  to  take  it  away.  The  other 
one " 

He  never  finished  the  sentence,  for  at  that  moment  he 
received  a  heavy  blow  on  the  head — a  blow  that  stretched 
him  helpless  on  the  floor.  He  was  not  unconscious,  for 
he  seemed  to  see  the  man  of  the  wooden  leg  looking  down 
at  him — seemed  to  hear  the  man  say : 

"He's  a  spy — he's  dangerous !     Leave  him  here !" 

Then  they  left  him  there,  closing  and  locking  the  door 
as  they  departed. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A     STRANGE     GIRL. 

Stunned  and  dazed  though  he  was,  Frank  Merriwell 
seemed  to  fully  realize  his  peril.  He  could  hear  the  crack- 
ling of  the  flames  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  could  see 
their  glare.  As  soon  as  the  door  leading  to  the  store  was 
closed,  the  room  the  boy  was  in  began  to  fill  with  smoke. 

But,  though  he  understood  what  had  happened — though 
he  knew  he  had  been  abandoned  to  die  in  the  flames,  it  was 
some  moments  before  he  seemed  able  to  throw  off  the 
numbness  that  had  grasped  his  entire  body  when  he  was 
knocked  to  the  floor. 

At  last,  however,  he  stirred,  he  groaned,  he  lifted  him- 
self on  his  elbow. 

Somehow,  his  first  glance  about  was  in  search  of  the 
alligator-skin  grips. 

"Gone!"  came  in  a  whisper  from  his  lips.  "Both 
gone !" 

Yes,  both  were  gone;  they  had  been  taken  away  by 
the  heartless  human  beings  who  had  left  the  boy  to  perish 
as  a  spy  in  the  flames. 

Crackle !  Crackle !  He  saw  the  fire  spreading  in  the 
next  room:  the  glare  seemed  to  sear  his  eyes,  the  heat 
smote  upon  him,  and  he  began  to  gasp  for  breath.  He 
coughed ;  the  smoke  was  getting  too  thick  for  him  to 
breathe. 

"I  must  get  out  of  here !" 

His  legs  shook  under  him  when  he  dragged  himself  to 
his  feet,  and  he  found  that  he  was  very  weak.  There 
was  a  roaring  sound  in  his  head,  and  cold  fingers  of  iron 
seemed  to  clutch,  with  crushing  force,  at  his  heart. 

"Courage — strength !" 

He  reeled  to  the  door,  but  it  seemed  fast  and  solid  be- 
neath his  touch.  He  fell  against  it,  gasping,  coughing, 
strangling ;  he  beat  upon  it  with  his  fists. 

"Help !    Help !" 


104  A  Strange  Girl. 

The  cry  was  so  faint  that  he  knew  it  could  not  be  h'£&rd 
beyond  the  bounds  of  the  room  he  was  in. 
Was  there  no  other  avenue  of  escape  ? 

He  faced  about,  and  the  yellow  glare  of  the  flames  drove 
him  back  against  the  door.  The  smoke  caused  tears  to 
blind  his  eyes,  and  a  blood-red  haze  seemed  to  float  all 
about  him. 

The  fire  guarded  the  open  door  leading  from  that  room. 

"Trapped!     Doomed!"  murmured  the  boy. 

He  made  one  last,  frantic  effort — he  hammered  on  the 
door  with  his  clinched  fists — he  kicked  upon  it  with  his 
feet. 

No  use !     It  withstood  the  shocks. 

Down  upon  the  floor  sank  Frank,  overcome  by  weak- 
ness and  the  smoke.  The  crackling  of  the  flames  seemed 
to  be  the  laughter  of  a  hundred  little  demons.  They  were 
pointing  at  him  with  fiery  fingers — they  were  reaching 
into  the  room  in  search  of  him ! 

Wild  fancies  began  to  flit  through  Frank's  brain.  The 
flames  seemed  like  a  cohort  of  fantastic  creatures  dancing 
a  wild  and  merry  dance;  he  heard  funeral  bells,  and  the 
rumbling  of  an  earthquake;  then  followed  a  wild  strain 
of  music,  and  a  long  procession  of  black-robed  figures 
filed  past.  Suddenly  the  boy  fancied  himself  alone  in  a 
deserted  city,  where  the  sun  beat  down  upon  him  with 
terrible  heat.  He  wondered  how  he  came  there,  he  won- 
dered where  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  were,  he  wondered 
how  he  could  escape  from  the  place.  Then  the  lofty 
buildings  of  the  great  city  began  falling,  one  by  one, 
crashing  into  the  streets. 

"He  is  in  there  somewhere !     Save  him !" 

He  heard  the  words,  as  if  they  came  from  a  great  dis- 
tance, and,  for  all  of  his  condition,  he  recognized  the 
voice. 

It  was  that  of  the  strange  girl  he  had  rescued  from  the 
railroad  train  wreck. 

Then  he  felt  himself  lifted  and  carried  swiftly  from  the 
spot  where  he  had  fallen — carried  into  the  open  air. 

It  was  some  moments  later  when  Frank  recovered,  to 
see  a  crowd  of  people  in  the  street,  to  see  a  fire-engine 
near  at  hand,  with  a  column  of  black  smoke  and  sparks 


A  Strange  Girl.  105 

rolling  from  the  stack,  and  to  see  firemen  pouring  water 
into  the  burning  building. 

"How  do  you  feel  ?    You  are  better  ?" 

The  girl  was  close  beside  him,  and  he  was  propped  on 
some  steps,  with  his  back  against  a  brick  wall.  He  looked 
at  her,  and  he  saw  fear  and  anxiety  expressed  on  her 
face. 

"How  did  I  get  out  ?"  Frank  faintly  whispered. 

"The  firemen  brought  you  out,"  explained  the  girl. 
"They  smashed  down  the  door  and  brought  you  out  here." 

"You — you  told  them  where  to  find  me;  I  heard  your 
voice  directing  them." 

"Yes,  I  told  them.  You  helped  me  out  of  the  wreck; 
I  was  not  going  to  leave  you  there  to  die." 

"Good  girl!" 

"No!"  she  cried,  in  a  way  that  astonished  Frank,  "i 
am  a  bad  girl — a  wicked  girl !  But  I  am  not  bad  enough 
to  desire  the  death  of  any  one." 

"I  won't  forget  you !" 

"Nor  will  I  forget  you !" 

"What's  your  name  ?" 

"Never  mind.  It  would  do  you  no  good  to  know.  I 
must  leave  you  in  a  moment,  and  we'll  never  meet  again/1 

"We  may." 

"Not  if  I  can  prevent  it.  I  want  to  warn  you.  Be 
careful !  You  followed  us,  and  it  came  near  leading  you 
to  death.  Be  careful!  You  do  not  know  Solomon 
Moses — you  do  not  know  Bardy  Sullivan.  Be  careful,  I 
say!" 

"Be  careful  of  what?  I  do  not  understand  you.  I 
followed  to  recover  my  grip." 

"Nonsense!  There  was  nothing  of  great  value  in  it. 
You  followed  because  you  saw  what  the  other  grip  con- 
tained. You  cannot  deceive  me." 

"Well,  if  you  cannot  be  deceived,  then  tell  me  to  whom 
all  that  money  in  the  other  grip  belongs." 

"I  knew  it !"  cried  the  girl.  "I  knew  it  was  that  which 
had  aroused  your  curiosity !  The  money  was  not  stolen, 
not  a  dollar  of  it — I'll  swear  to  that !" 

"But  the  officer " 


506  A  Strange  Girl. 

"The  one  who  tried  to  arrest  you  ?  Ha  1  That  was  a 
joke!" 

"On  me— yes." 

"On  the  officer,  as  well.  But  you  are  all  right  now.  I 
can't  talk  with  you  more — I  must  leave  you.  I  would 
not  leave  you  for  the  fire.  I  skipped  them — I  slipped 
back — I  told  the  firemen  you  were  in  there.  Now,  we  are 
square  for  what  you  did  for  me.  I  always  like  to  square 
my  debts." 

Frank  was  strangely  interested  in  this  most  singular 
girl.  She  was  bright  as  a  new  dollar,  and  as  self-reliant 
as  a  man  of  the  world.  The  boy  had  never  before  seen 
a  girl  quite  like  this  one.  Somehow,  he  could  not  help 
feeling  admiration  for  her,  although  some  of  her  ways  as- 
tonished him. 

The  crowd  in  the  street  was  growing  denser.  Reddish 
flames  flared  out  from  some  of  the  windows  of  the  burn- 
ing building,  flinging  a  ruddy  glare  against  other  build- 
ings across  the  street,  lighting  the  features  of  the  strange 
girl,  for  it  was  growing  dark  with  the  coming  of  night. 

She  drew  away. 

"I  must  leave  you  now.     Good-by." 

Still  weak  and  unsteady,  Frank  got  upon  his  feet.  With 
an  impulse  of  chivalry,  he  reached  to  lift  his  hat,  but 
found  it  was  gone.  Then,  with  a  still  bolder  impulse,  he 
held  out  his  hand. 

"Won't  you  take  it?"  he  asked. 

She  hesitated ;  then  she  placed  her  warm  fingers  in  his 
grasp,  and  her  face  was  half  turned  away. 

"Thank  you,  miss,"  he  said,  sincerely;  "thank  you  for 
telling  the  firemen  where  to  find  me." 

"Oh,  don't  thank  me !"  she  cried,  petulantly.  "I  don't 
deserve  thanks — I  don't  deserve  anything !" 

"Yes,  you  do — you  deserve  a  good  beating !" 

The  voice  was  hoarse  with  anger,  and  the  man  with  the 
wooden  leg  appeared  at  her  side.  He  clutched  her  arm, 
he  savagely  pulled  her  away. 

"Come !"  he  grated.     "A  pretty  mess  you'd  make !" 

"Stop !"  cried  Frank.     "If  you  harm  her " 

The  man  paid  no  heed  to  those  words.  He  was  hurry- 
ing away  with  the  girl,  and  both  were  swallowed  by  the 


A  Strange  Girl.  107 

swaying  crowd  that  watched  the  firemen  fighting  the 
flames. 

Weak,  swaying,  uncertain,  Frank  tried  to  follow.  The 
pack  of  human  beings  closed  before  him,  and  he  had  not 
the  strength  to  force  his  way  through. 

"It's  useless !"  murmured  the  boy.    "I  cannot  follow  I" 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A      NEW      DANGER. 

Unsteady,  uncertain,  dismayed  by  his  own  weakness, 
Frank  was  forced  to  seek  the  curbing  and  sit  down  once 
more.  His  lungs  still  seemed  filled  with  smoke,  and  he 
coughed  painfully.  There  was  a  dull  throbbing  in  his 
head. 

For  some  time  Frank  sat  and  rested,  and  he  gained 
strength  with  each  passing  moment. 

He  wondered  at  the  strange  things  that  had  happened 
to  him  during  the  day,  and,  but  for  the  clothes  he  wore, 
but  for  his  throbbing  head  and  aching  lungs,  he  might 
have  fancied  he  had  dreamed  it  all. 

There  was  a  mystery  about  the  strange  girl,  the  youth 
who  had  given  his  name  as  De  Lancey  Duncan,  and  the 
fierce  old  man  with  the  wooden  leg — a  mystery  Frank 
Merriwell  would  have  given  much  to  solve. 

The  man  had  looked  very  fierce  when  he  appeared  and 
clutched  the  girl  by  the  arm,  and  she  had  seemed  strangely 
submissive  for  one  of  her  independence  and  spirit. 

"He's  her  master — she's  afraid  of  him,"  thought  Frank. 
"She  has  to  do  as  he  says.  He  was  the  one  who  gave  me 
the  tap  on  the  head,  and  he  left  me  to  roast.  I  won't  for- 
get her ;  I  won't  forget  him  !" 

He  got  upon  his  feet.  Something  led  him  to  search 
through  the  crowd  for  some  one  of  the  mysterious  trio; 
but  he  could  not  find  a  trace  of  them. 

It  was  getting  dark. 

"I  must  report  at  the  Palmer  House,"  thought  Frank. 
"The  professor  and  Hans  expected  me  hours  ago.  They 
will  hear  of  the  accident,  and  they'll  think  I  was  killed." 

He  was  disinclined  to  leave  the  locality,  and  he  resolved 
to  know  how  to  find  his  way  back  there,  so  he  learned  the 
name  of  the  street,  and  the  number  of  the  burning  build- 
ing. 

Frank  walked  away,  although  he  knew  not  which  direc- 


A  New  Danger.  109 

tion  to  pursue.  He  looked  for  a  cab,  but  cabs  were  de- 
cidedly scarce  in  that  part  of  the  city. 

''I  must  have  different  clothing  from  this  suit  I  have 
on,"  he  decided.  "I  do  not  fancy  I  would  be  admitted  to 
the  Palmer  House  in  this  rig." 

He  looked  for  a  clothing  store  where  it  seemed  that  he 
might  obtain  a  ready-made  suit  that  would  do. for  the 
time.  There  were  plenty  of  Jew  stores,  but  it  was  some 
time  before  he  came  upon  one  that  looked  promising. 

He  found  a  dark  gray  suit  that  fitted  him  as  well  as  if 
it  had  been  cut  expressly  for  him.  He  bought  a  hat,  shirt, 
collar,  cuffs,  necktie,  and  such  other  articles  as  he  re- 
quired and  could  obtain  there,  and  then  he  set  out  to  look 
for  a  shoe  store.  This  he  soon  found,  and  he  exchanged 
the  coarse  boots  of  the  country  boy  for  a  pair  of  easy- 
walking  shoes. 

In  this  place  he  made  inquiries  concerning  the  way  to 
proceed  to  reach  the  Palmer  House.  For  a  wonder,  the 
shoe  dealer  was  able  to  direct  him  so  that  he  could  obtain 
a  car  that  would  let  him  off  within  half  a  block  of  the 
hotel.  In  order  to  reach  the  car,  Frank  found  it  neces- 
sary to  walk  half  a  mile,  but  his  strength  had  returned,  so 
he  did  not  mind  that. 

Directed  by  one  or  two  policemen,  he  made  his  way 
straight  to  the  nearest  spot  where  he  could  take  the  car, 
and  he  felt  relieved  when  he  got  aboard  and  heard  the 
conductor  assure  him  that  he  was  all  right. 

Frank  was  so  thoroughly  used  up  that  he  did  not  have 
enough  interest  in  his  surroundings  to  look  out  of  the 
car  window,  and  he  was  in  a  doze  when  the  conductor 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  called : 

"State  street — Palmer  House !" 

Thanking  the  conductor,  much  to  that  person's  surprise, 
Frank  quickly  left  the  car,  and,  a  few  moments  later,  he 
entered  the  Palmer  House. 

Frank's  first  act  was  to  examine  the  register,  on  which 
he  soon  found  the  names  of  Professor  H.  O.  T.  Scotch 
and  Hans  Dunnerwust.  Frank  registered,  told  the  clerk 
who  he  was,  and  was  immediately  given  a  key  to  the  suite 
of  rooms  engaged  by  the  professor. 

"Professor  Scotch  is  out  at  present,"  explained  the 
clerk. 


no  A  New  Danger. 

Frank  saw  that  his  trunk  check  was  given  to  the  proper 
person,  who,  on  being  tipped  half  a  dollar,  assured  him 
that  the  trunk  should  be  brought  as  soon  as  possible. 

Then  the  boy  took  the  elevator  and  ascended  to  the 
rooms  engaged  by  the  professor. 

"Well,"  muttered  Frank,  as  he  let  himself  in,  "I  may 
consider  myself  a  lucky  fellow  to  be  here  at  all.  The  ad- 
ventures of  this  day  have  been  enough  to  take  away  a  fel- 
low's breath.  I've  been  arrested,  been  in  a  railroad 
smash-up,  been  pursued  by  an  officer,  skipped  across  coun- 
try to  dodge  the  fellow,  been  left  to  roast  in  a  fire — and  I 
still  live!  If  this  sort  of  thing  keeps  up,  I'm  afraid  I'll 
have  to  give  over  traveling,  as  it  may  prove  detrimental  to 
my  health." 

He  did  not  find  Hans  awaiting  him,  as  he  had  half  ex- 
pected, but  there  was  a  note  from  the  professor,  which  said 
they  had  gone  out  together,  and  did  not  know  just  when 
they  would  return. 

Frank  found  there  was  a  bath  connected  with  the  suite, 
and  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  undress  and  take  a  plunge 
in  a  brimming  tub.  A  brisk  rubbing  with  a  rough  towel 
set  his  blood  to  circulating  and  his  flesh  to  glowing,  and 
he  felt  like  a  new  boy  when  he  was  dressed  once  more. 

"Well,"  he  half  laughed,  "I  don't  know  but  I'm  good 
for  another  day  like  the  one  past." 

Frank  was  hungry,  and  he  resolved  not  to  wait  for  the 
professor  and  Hans,  so  he  descended  to  the  dining-room 
at  once.  The  amount  of  food  he  was  able  to  stow  away 
made  the  eyes  of  the  waiter  bulge,  but  Frank  found  the 
waiter  very  attentive  and  courteous,  and  he  tipped  the  fel- 
low liberally. 

Frank  had  fancied  that  he  would  find  himself  quite  used 
up  and  ready  to  rest  when  he  had  eaten,  and  he  was  sur- 
prised to  discover  that  he  had  recovered  so  that  he  did 
not  feel  like  resting  quietly  in  his  rooms. 

For  a  while  he  waited  the  appearance  of  the  professor 
and  Hans,  wondering  why  they  did  not  return;  but  he 
finally  decided  to  go  out  and  take  a  brisk  walk,  although 
he  was  not  provided  with  a  top-coat,  and  a  raw  breeze 
from  the  lake  was  cutting  through  the  streets. 

Leaving  the  hotel,  the  clanging  cable  oars  on  State  street 


A  New  Danger.  m 

made  him  think  of  Broadway.  He  crossed  State  street, 
and  wandered  whither  his  fancy  led  him. 

By  chance,  he  strolled  into  the  very  heart  of  the  business 
quarter,  and  he  gazed  in  wonder  at  the  lofty  office-build- 
ings on  every  side  of  him,  fairly  bewildered  by  their  num- 
ber and  their  height. 

His  stroll  finally  led  him  to  the  Clark  street  viaduct, 
which  extends  over  the  Chicago  River  and  the  railroad 
tracks  on  the  north  bank. 

The  scene  from  the  viaduct  interested  Frank,  and  he 
stood  a  long  time  watching  the  shipping  strung  along  the 
wharves  which  lined  each  bank  of  the  river.  In  mid- 
stream many  boats,  bearing  colored  lights,  were  moving  to 
and  fro,  and  the  puffing,  fussing  little  tugs  were  constantly 
shrieking  signals  at  each  other.  Down  the  river  a  swing- 
ing bridge  opened  now  and  then  to  let  some  craft  through. 

Frank  was  completely  absorbed  in  what  he  saw,  and 
was  quite  unaware  that  he  had  been  dogged,  step  by  step, 
since  leaving  the  hotel,  as  he  was  also  unaware  that  he 
had  been  tracked  to  the  hotel  when  he  left  the  vicinity  of 
the  fire  from  which  he  had  had  such  a  narrow  escape. 

At  last,  he  moved  on  across  the  viaduct,  and  the  shad- 
ows, two  in  number,  were  close  upon  his  heels. 

A  train  was  approaching  from  the  west  as  Frank 
reached  that  part  of  the  viaduct  above  the  tracks,  and  he 
paused  to  watch  it  pass  below. 

Then  the  pursuers  darted  forward,  and  were  upon  him, 
as,  at  that  moment,  neither  horse  car  nor  foot  traveler 
happened  to  be  passing. 

"Over  with  "him !"  snarled  a  harsh  voice.  "Drop  him 
on  the  track,  and  he'll  never  play  the  spy  any  more !" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A     TEMPERANCE     DRINK. 

Frank  had  heard  that  voice  before.  He  knew  the  man 
of  the  wooden  leg  was  there.  At  least  two  other  ruffians 
were  with  him. 

Frank  felt  himself  clutched,  lifted,  poised  for  the  drop 
that  should  land  him  in  the  path  of  certain  death. 

Snorting  like  an  enraged  monster,  its  headlight  gleam- 
ing like  a  fiery  Cyclopean  eye,  breathing  forth  smoke  and 
sparks,  the  locomotive  came  thundering  on. 

In  another  moment  the  boy  would  be  hurled  down  to 
death  upon  the  track — would  be  stunned  by  the  fall  and 
crushed  and  mutilated  beneath  the  whirling  wheels. 

Life  was  sweet  to  Frank,  and  it  surely  was  worth  a 
struggle.  Twisting  about,  he  succeeded  in  clutching  both 
the  men  who  held  him. 

"If  I  go,  you  go  with  me !"  he  panted. 

Near  at  hand  was  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg,  and  he 
snarled : 

"Over  with  him !     Be  quick,  or  the  train  will  pass  !" 

The  ruffians  struggled  to  break  the  hold  of  the  lad,  but 
•Frank  was  hanging  on  for  dear  life,  and  he  could  not  be 
jast  off. 

Beneath  the  viaduct  roared  the  train,  and  a  cry  of  baf- 
fled rage  came  from  the  lips  of  the  man  with  the  wooden 
leg. 

"You  blundering  fools !"  he  grated.  "What's  the  mat- 
ter with  you  ?" 

"He's  worst  than  an  octopus,  boss !"  declared  one  of 
the  men. 

"He  sticks  like  a  plaster,"  asserted  the  other. 

"And  you've  fooled  till  it's  too  late !  Some  one  is  com- 
ing !  Slug  him,  and  skip  !" 

Frank  saw  an  arm  uplifted,  saw  something  descending, 
and  dodged.  In  this  way,  he  partly  avoided  the  blow,  but 


A  Temperance  Drink.  113 

a  sandbag  struck  him  with  sufficient  force  to  knock  him 
down. 

In  a  dazed  manner,  he  sat  up,  some  seconds  later,  and 
found  a  policeman  bending  over  him. 

"What's  ther  matter  here?"  demanded  the  officer, 
roughly.  "Are  yer  drunk?  This  ain't  no  lodgin'  house, 
young  feller." 

"I  am  not  drunk,"  declared  Frank,  "for  I  do  not  drink. 
But  I  was  attacked  here  a  few  moments  ago  by  three  men. 
They  hit  me  on  the  head  with  something  that  dropped  me 
like  a  log." 

"Sandbagged  yer,"  said  the  officer,  carelessly.  "You'd 
oughter  been  home  with  yer  folks,  'stead  of  ramblin'  round 
the  streets  nights.  Where  d'ye  live?" 

"I  am  stopping  at  the  Palmer  House." 

"Then,  ye  don't  live  in  the  city  ?" 

"No." 

"All  ther  more  reason  why  yer'd  better  keep  in  nights. 
Can  yer  git  up  ?" 

"I  rather  think  so." 

Frank  got  upon  his  feet  without  trouble,  and  the  po- 
liceman offered  to  accompany  him  a  short  distance  toward 
the  Palmer  House. 

"If  yer  walk  along  sharp,  and  don't  loaf,  you'll  be  likely 
to  git  there  all  right,"  said  the  officer.  "You'll  most  likely 
find,  when  you  git  there,  that  you  hain't  got  any  change 
left  in  yer  pockets ;  and  mebbe  this  will  learn  yer  not  to  be 
loafin'  round  the  streets  nights." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Frank  found  himself  in  the  hotel 
again.  He  was  surprised  to  find  that  Hans  and  the  pro- 
fessor had  not  returned.  Securing  an  evening  paper,  he 
awaited  their  return,  beginning  to  feel  somewhat  anxious 
concerning  them. 

Frank  found  he  had  not  been  robbed  by  his  assailants, 
but  his  head  had  been  thumped  in  a  way  that  made  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  read  much,  as  it  was  throbbing  with  a 
dull  pain. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  when  Frank  was  surprised 
to  hear  some  one  singing  outside  the  door,  and  he  was 
still  more  surprised  to  recognize  the  voice  of  Professor 
Scotch,  who  was  dismally  chanting,  "We  Won't  Go  Home 
Till  Morning." 


114  A  Temperance  Drink. 

A  key  rattled  in  the  lock,  the  door  opened,  and  the  little 
professor  rolled  into  the  room,  followed  by  Hans  Dunner- 
wust,  who  was  saying: 

"Uf  you  don'd  shud  oop,  you  peen  fired  der  hotel  oudt 
righd  avay,  queek.  Vot  vos  der  madder  mit  you,  ain'd  id  ? 
I  nefer  seen  der  peat  uf  dot  your  porn  days  in !" 

The  professor's  silk  hat  was  canted  over  his  eyes  at  a 
rakish  angle,  causing  Frank  to  gasp  with  amazement,  for 
he  had  never  beheld  Scotch  in  such  a  condition  before. 

"Here!  Here!"  he  cried,  aghast.  "What's  the  mat- 
ter with  you,  professor  ?  Have  you  been  toying  with  the 
wine-cup  ?" 

"Hullo,  Frank !"  cried  the  professor,  with  a  military  sa- 
lute. "Fines  ossifer  in  the  cadet  corps  at  Fardale.  Mili- 
tary ash  a  vet-ransh.  Halt!  By  twosh  right,  forward, 
marsh !  Letter  go,  Galligher !  Hoopee !" 

"For  goodness'  sake,  close  the  door,  Hans !"  palpitated 
Frank,  in  dismay.  "I  wonder  how  you  succeeded  in  get- 
ting through  the  building  and  reaching  these  rooms  with- 
out being  stopped.  Keep  still,  professor!  We'll  be  in- 
vited to  move  to-night,  if  you  keep  this  up." 

"Whash  that?"  owlishly  gurgled  Scotch,  bracing  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  his  feet  very  wide  apart. 
"Who'll  'vite  ush  to  move?  Whassher  massher,  any- 
how?" 

"You've  been  drinking,  professor!  I  am  ashamed  of 
you !" 

"Drinking!  Young  man,  you  have  'shulted  me!  I 
never  drink.  I'm  strictly  temp'rate — strictly  sho.  Guesh 
man  hash  a  right  to  stop  at  a  drug  store  an'  have  a  drink 
of  shody !  Shody-wassher  never  hurt  anybody." 

Frank  turned  to  Hans. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  he  asked.  "How  does 
it  happen  that  the  professor  is  in  this  condition  ?" 

"Veil,"  said  Hans,  with  a  grin,  "uf  you  vasn't  mis- 
daken,  id  vas  dot  soty-vater." 

"Soda-water !"  cried  Frank.  "What  are  you  trying  to 
tell  me  ?  Nobody  every  got  drunk  on  soda-water !" 

"Der  brofessor  don'd  took  netting  else." 

"Tha's  ri',"  rumbled  the  little  man  with  the  big  voice. 
"Jesbt  took  sody-wassher.  Took  sody-wassher  cold,  an' 


A  Temperance  Drink.  115 

sody-wassher  hot,  an'  then  took  it  mixed.  Besht  sody- 
wassher  ever  tasted.  Hoopee !" 

Frank  was  more  puzzled  than  before. 

''What  kind  of  soda-water  did  you  drink?"  he  asked, 
bewildered. 

"Temp'ransh  sody-wassher.  Told  man  I  neversh 
drinked  anyshing  by  temp'ransh  sody-wassher.  Man 
winked — I  winked.  Then  he  drew  sody-wassher.  Besht 
sody-wassher  ever  tasted.  Took  'nuzzer  cold  one.  Didn't 
sheem  to  shatisfy  me,  sho  I  took  a  hot  one.  Shomehow, 
cold  ones  sheemed  'bout  ash  hot  ash  the  hot  onesh.  Besht 
sody-wassher  ever  tashted." 

Frank  collapsed  on  a  chair,  and  burst  into  laughter. 

"Oh,  professor !"  he  cried ;  "that  wink  was  what  did  the 
job!  When  you  called  for  temperance  soda-water  and 
winked,  you  fixed  everything  nicely." 

"Whash  you  mean  ?"  asked  Scotch,  blankly. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  that  wink  meant.  It  meant  whiskey, 
and  you  got  it  in  the  soda-water.  You  took  it  cold,  and 
then  you  took  it  hot,  and  you've  got  a  load,  professor." 

"Shay,"  said  the  professor,  soberly,  trying  to  brace  up, 
"  'f  that  man  gave  me  whishky  in  sody-wassher,  I'll  have 
'm  'reshted  for  shellin'  liquor  under  falsh  pretenshesh." 

"The  best  thing  you  can  do  now  is  to  get  into  bed  with- 
out delay,  and  sleep  off  this  load,"  said  Frank. 

"Don't  wanter  to  bed ;  wanter  talk.  Feel  like  stringing 
shongs.  Lesh  all  shing  a  shong." 

It  was  with  no  little  difficulty  that  Frank  persuaded  the 
I  professor  to  be  undressed  and  put  into  bed,  and,  after  the 
j  man  was  in  bed,  even,  he  persisted  in  trying  to  sing. 
Finally,  declaring  the  Palmer  House  was  "besht  hotel 
eversh  shaw — beds  rocked  fellersh  to  shleep,"  the  profes- 
sor closed  his  eyes  and  began  to  snore. 

"There,"  breathed  Frank,  with  relief,  "he's  settled  fo, 
to-night,  but  there'll  be  a  difference  in  the  morning." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    ITALIAN    COUNT. 

In  the  morning,  Professor  Scotch  felt  decidedly  indis 
posed.     When  Frank  aroused  him,  he  stared  blankly  at 
the  boy,  and  then  asked : 

"When  did  you  arrive?" 

"Late  yesterday  afternoon.  I  was  here  when  you  came 
in  last  evening,  professor.  Don't  you  remember?" 

"It  seems  that  I  remember  something  about  it,  but  I've 
got  a  terrible  headache !  What  is  the  matter  with  me  ?" 

"You've  been  monkeying  with  that  decoction  'which 
stingeth  like  a  serpent  and  biteth  like  an  adder.  You 
came  in  drunk  last  night,  professor." 

Scotch  tried  to  sit  up  quickly  in  bed,  but  fell  back  with  a 
groan. 

"Frank!  Frank!"  he  cried.  "What  do  you  mean?  I 
am  not  a  drinking  man — you  know  I  am  not !  Sometimes 
I  take  soda-water;  I  remember  that  I  took  some  last 
night." 

"And  you  winked  at  the  man  who  mixed  it  ?" 

"I  don't  remember;  possibly  I  did." 

"That  wink  gave  you  the  beautiful  head  you  have  this 
morning." 

"Why,  how " 

"Simplest  thing  in  the  world.  You  were  taken  for  the 
kind  of  temperance  crank  who  drinks  his  whiskey  in 
soda-water.  You  took  several  drinks,  and  you  came  in 
very  much  intoxicated.  It's  a  miracle  that  you  reached 
these  rooms,  for  you  were  singing  'We  Won't  Go  Home 
Till  Morning,'  and  it's  a  wonder  you  were  not  arrested. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  Hans,  you  could  not  have  reached 
these  rooms.  He  made  you  keep  still  till  you  arrived  on 
this  floor." 

The  professor  groaned  again. 

"I  am  horrified  and  shocked,"  he  said,  dolefully.  "If  I 
can  find  that  druggist  again,  I  shall  talk  to  him  severely." 


The  Italian  Count  117 

"Look  out  that  you  do  not  wink  at  him  when  you 
speak,"  laughed  Frank. 

"Little  danger  of  that.  Oh,  my  head !  Bring  me  a  wet 
towel,  Frank,  and  leave  me  to  my  misery." 

The  Dutch  boy  was  listening,  a  broad  grin  on  his  fat, 
good-natured  face. 

"You  don'd  feel  so  goot  as  you  did,  brofessor,"  he 
chirped.  "You  said  last  nighd  you  vas  goin'  to  trink  dot 
soty-vater  efery  tay  you  stayed  in  Chigawgo.  Maype  you 
changed  your  mindt  righd  avay  alretty  yet." 

"Get  out !"  roared  the  professor,  glaring  at  Hans.  "I 
believe  you  were  at  the  bottom  of  this,  you  rascal !  If  I 
find  out  you  were — well,  something  will  drop  with  a  dull 
thud." 

A  wet  towel  was  brought  and  tied  about  the  professor's 
head,  and  he  was  left  alone,  while  Frank  and  Hans  de- 
scended for  breakfast. 

To  Frank's  surprise,  a  dark-skinned,  foreign-looking 
man,  with  mustache  and  imperial  waxed  to  needle  points, 
was  placed  at  the  table  with  them.  He  seemed  to  have 
entered  the  dining-room  close  behind  them,  and  Frank 
fancied  he  had  asked  the  waiter  to  seat  him  at  that  par- 
ticular table.  He  was  well-dressed,  and  had  an  air  of  cool 
self-possession. 

"Excusa  me,  young  gentlemen,"  he  said,  with  a  decid- 
edly foreign  accent.  "I  have  not-ta  da  vera  gr-r-reat 
honah  of  know-a  you,  bot  I  like-a  your  appearanze.  At 
da  vera  last  hotel  where  I  be,  I  have-a  da  mis  fort'  to  sit-ta 
at  da  tab'  with-a  one  peeg.  He  stuffa  da  food  in  his  mout' 
with  hees  knife-a — with  his  fork-a — almost  with  hees  feen- 
gar-r-rs !  Bar-r-r-rr !  Dat-a  make-a  me-a  seek !  I  say 
I  take-a  da  care  I  don'  sect  at  da  tab'  wid  dat  kine  peopl' 
no  more.  I  sect  at  da  tab'  wid  genteelmen.  Excusa  me-a 
if  I  speak-a  diffren'  frome  da  Americ'  peopl'.  I  am  Ital- 
a-ean.  Excuse-a  me-a — my  card-a." 

With  a  profound  bow,  the  dark-faced  stranger  placed 
an  engraved  card  before  the  boys,  and  they  read : 

"COUNT  ANTONIO  POLICASTRO, 

"Milan." 

Frank  felt  for  his  card  case,  but,  to  his  dismay,  found 
he  did  not  have  it  with  him. 


n8  The  Italian  Count. 

"I  haven't  a  card  at  hand,  count,"  he  said,  "but  I  will 
introduce  my  friend  and  myself.  Mr.  Hans  Dunnerwust, 
Count  Policastro.  My  own  name  is  Frank  Merriwell." 

The  count  bowed  gracefully. 

"Young  genteelmen,  I  salute-a  you,"  he  smiled,  showing 
his  teeth  beneath  his  dark  mustache.  "If  you  no  objec',  I 
take-a  da  pleasure  to  sect  at  dees  tab'  while  I  stay  da 
hotel  at." 

"I  do  not  think  we  object,"  said  Frank.  "We  are  not 
cads." 

"Dot  vos  righd,  Count  Bolecatero,"  nodded  Hans,  who 
was  determined  to  say  something  agreeable.  "Shust  you 
sed  righd  down  dis  table  at  all  der  vile  und  make  yourseluf 
righd  at  home.  I  don'd  peen  efery  day  we  eat  hash  a 
count  mit,  you  pet  me  your  poots." 

The  count  smiled  again,  lifting  his  eyebrows  somewhat, 
and  staring  pleasantly  at  the  Dutch  boy. 

"I  hear  dat  great  many  of  da  counts  in  this-a  countaree 
be  no-a  count,"  he  observed. 

Frank  was  amused  by  this  pleasantry,  as  Hans  plainly 
saw,  but  the  Dutch  boy  was  greatly  puzzled  to  see  the 
point. 

"Noah  Count,"  muttered  Hans.  "Veil,  I  don'd  know 
dot  feller,  but,  if  dis  peen  der  blace  to  laugh  at,  you  don'd 
get  me  left  any  alretty  yet." 

Then  he  broke  into  a  roar  of  laughter  that  startled 
everybody  in  the  dining-room,  and  came  near  giving 
Frank  a  fit.  Seeing  he  had  make  a  mistake,  the  Dutch 
lad  broke  off  suddenly  in  a  manner  quite  surprising,  and 
drank  a  whole  glass  of  water  at  a  single  swallow. 

"Great  Scott !"  gasped  Frank.  "You'll  be  taken  for  a 
lunatic,  Hans ;  an'  we'll  both  be  fired,  if  you  do  that  trick 
again." 

"Meester  Dunnerbust  seem-a  to  be  vera  orig' — vera 
much-a  da  same  like-a  himself,"  observed  the  count. 

During  the  remaining  time  at  breakfast  Hans  did  not 
venture  to  speak  a  word  or  utter  a  sound. 

Frank  conversed  pleasantly  with  the  count,  and  found 
much  of  interest  in  the  dark-faced  Italian. 

When  they  left  the  dining-room,  and  were  moving  to- 
ward the  elevator,  Frank  said  to  Hans,  speaking  in  a  low 
tone: 


The  Italian  Count.  119 

"That  count  is  a  palpable  fraud." 

"Vot  vos  dot?"  gasped  the  Dutch  boy,  astonished. 
"You  mean  to  say  dot " 

"That  the  fellow  is  no  count,  and  I  doubt  if  he  ever 
saw  Italy.  I  happen  to  be  pretty  well  posted  on  Italy,  and 
I  led  the  conversation  into  a  channel  that  tended  to  bring 
out  what  he  knew,  with  the  result  that  he  got  badly 
twisted.  If  he  came  from  Italy,  he  knows  very  little  about 
his  own  country,  and  Milan,  from  which  place  he  claims 
to  hail." 

Hans  was  dazed. 

"You  don'd  mean  to  say  he  peen  a  fraud?"  asked  the 
Dutch  lad. 

"That  is  what  I  suspect,"  said  Frank. 

"Shimminy  Gristmas !  Und  we  don'd  sed  at  der  table  a 
real  count  mit  ?" 

"I  think  not." 

"Veil,  uf  I  don'd  go  pack  und  knock  der  sduffin'  from 
him  oudt  you  kick  me !" 

Hans  would  have  started,  but  Frank  caught  him  by  the 
shoulder,  and  prevented  it. 

"You  seem  determined  to  do  something  that  will  get  us 
fired  from  the  hotel.  I  don't  know  Count  Policastro  is  a 
fraud ;  I  simply  suspect  it.  American  girls  love  titles,  and 
the  man  may  be  traveling  on  his  title,  which  he  has 
adopted  for  that  purpose.  Some  way,  his  face  seems  fa- 
miliar to  me,  although  I  cannot  place  him." 

On  reaching  their  rooms,  the  professor  was  found  still 
in  bed,  and,  after  much  persuasion,  Frank  succeeded  in 
inducing  him  to  take  some  coffee,  which  was  brought  by 
a  boy. 

But  the  coffee  did  not  brace  the  unfortunate  man,  who 
declared  over  and  over  that  he  was  "awfully  sick." 

At  length,  as  the  professor  did  not  seem  to  get  any  bet- 
ter, Frank  decided  to  go  out  and  look  around.  He  left 
Hans  to  look  after  Scotch. 

Frank  decided  to  visit  the  stock  yards  without  delay. 
This  he  did,  taking  a  State  street  cable  car  to  Thirty-ninth 
street,  from  which  point  he  proceeded  by  a  stock-yards 
car. 

Frank  had  learned  to  keep  his  eyes  open  constantly,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  he  discovered  that  Count  Antonio 


I2O  The  Italian  Count. 

Policastro  was  going  right  along  with  him,  although  the 
count  seemed  to  shun  the  boy's  observation,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible. 

"Now,  there  is  something  in  this,"  decided  Frank — "far 
more  than  appears  on  the  surface.  This  bogus  count  is 
shadowing  me.  Why  ?  That's  the  question." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  CUNNING  FOLLOWER. 

At  first,  Frank  was  uneasy,  for  he  did  not  fancy  being 
dogged  about  like  a  criminal. 

But  he  resolved  to  lead  the  count  a  merry  dance. 

"If  he  follows  me,  he'll  have  to  keep  moving,"  muttered 
the  boy. 

At  the  stock  yards  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of 
nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  pens,  where  were  con- 
fined vast  numbers  of  Texan  and  Western  cattle,  hogs 
from  the  entire  Mississippi  Valley,  sheep  from  Colorado, 
Kansas,  New  Mexico,  and  elsewhere,  unbroken  horses 
from  Kentucky  and  Western  horse  ranches,  all,  with  the 
exception  of  the  horses,  having  been  brought  there  for 
slaughter. 

Around  and  about  amid  the  yards  Frank  hurried,  and 
the  Italian  count  kept  on  his  track. 

Then  the  boy  visited  the  slaughter  and  packing  houses, 

the  sights  and  scenes  of  which  proved  sickening  for  him, 

although  he  was  astounded  and  bewildered  by  the  rapidity 

with  which  a  living  hog  or  steer  was  converted  into 

.  dressed  pork  or  beef. 

Amid  the  slaughterhouses  Frank  fancied  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  dodging  Count  Policastro. 

He  breathed  easier,  but  he  hastened  to  leave  the  slaugh- 
ter pens,  with  their  nauseating  sights  and  smells. 

Frank  had  desired  to  see  the  stock  yards  and  slaughter- 
houses, for  these  were  of  the  many  sights  which  Chicago 
boasts,  but,  having  seen  them  once,  it  would  have  been  a 
difficult  thing  to  induce  him  to  visit  them  again. 

On  getting  away  from  the  locality,  he  felt  as  if  he  might 
turn  vegetarian  for  a  time. 

Three  things  about  Chicago  had  impressed  themselves 
on  Frank  Merriwell,  and  he  fancied  he  would  not  forget 
them  very  soon.  They  were  the  lofty  buildings,  the  Chi- 


122  A  Cunning  Follower. 

cago  River,  with  its  swinging  bridges  and  viaducts,  and 
the  stock  yards  and  slaughterhouses. 

Having  left  the  stock  yards,  Frank  fell  to  thinking  of 
his  singular  adventures  of  the  previous  day.  Somehow, 
it  seemed  that  he  had  dreamed  those  things,  but  there 
were  two  swelled  places  on  his  head,  each  very  tender  to 
the  touch,  and  those  stood  as  evidence  that  he  had  not 
dreamed. 

But  what  had  it  all  meant  ?  The  mystery  remained  un- 
solved, and  thoughts  of  it  made  Frank  fretful  and  rest- 
less. 

He  wondered  what  had  become  of  the  pretty  girl  whose 
acquaintance  he  had  so  strangely  made. 

Somehow,  remembering  how  she  had  been  seized  and 
dragged  away  by  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg,  he  fancied 
she  might  be  in  trouble  and  distress. 

Why  had  that  man  followed  and  made  an  attack  on  the 
life  of  the  boy  who  had  been  rescued  from  the  burning 
store  of  the  old  Jew  ? 

Frank  was  satisfied  that  the  man  was  a  desperate  ruf- 
fian and  criminal. 

What  relation  to  him  was  the  girl  ? 

Plainly,  there  was  some  bond  of  connection  between  the 
girl  and  the  fresh  youth  who  called  himself  De  Lancey 
Duncan. 

And  the  mystery  of  the  alligator  grips  added  to  the  con- 
fusion. 

The  girl  had  declared  that  not  a  dollar  of  the  gripful  of 
money  Frank  had  seen  had  been  stolen. 

Then,  why  was  De  Lancey  Duncan  pursued  by  an  of- 
ficer, who  sought  his  arrest,  but  had  made  a  mistake  and 
tried  to  arrest  Frank  himself  ? 

The  girl  had  said  of  herself  that  she  was  bad  and 
wicked,  but  Frank  could  not  believe  that  she  was  so  from 
choice. 

Thinking  these  things  over,  Frank  concluded  that  the 
man  with  the  wooden  leg  was  an  old  rascal,  and  the  boy 
and  girl  were  his  tools,  willingly  or  otherwise. 

He  longed  to  see  the  girl  again,  to  talk  with  her  once 
more.  This  desire  grew  stronger  and  stronger  upon  him. 

But  how  could  he  find  her  ? 


A  Cunning  Follower.  123 

"I'll  attempt  to  find  Solomon  Moses,"  decided  Frank. 
"I  may  be  able  to  find  the  girl  through  the  old  Jew." 

He  did  not  return  to  the  Palmer  House,  but  took  a 
luncheon  in  a  restaurant. 

Then,  crossing  the  river  by  one  of  the  many  swinging 
bridges,  he  set  out  for  the  quarter  in  which  the  store  of  the 
old  Jew  had  been  located. 

Frank  knew  that  he  might  be  going  straight  into  new 
perils,  but  that  knowledge  did  not  cause  him  to  hesitate. 

He  found  a  car  that  took  him  to  a  point  within  a  few 
blocks  of  the  locality  for  which  he  was  bound. 

A  brisk  walk  through  the  narrow  streets  brought  him  in 
a  few  minutes  within  sight  of  the  burned  store. 

The  walls  of  the  building  were  standing,  but  it  had  been 
gutted  by  fire,  although  the  flames  had  not  been  allowed  to 
spread. 

Frank  shuddered  when  he  thought  how  near  he  came  to 
perishing  in  that  fire. 

In  front  of  the  ruins  stood  two  men.  They  were  Jews, 
and  the  boy  saw,  with  no  little  satisfaction,  that  Moses  was 
one  of  them. 

"He  is  looking  the  ruins  over,"  muttered  Frank.  "It 
is  possible  he  will  lead  me  to  the  people  I  wish  to  find." 

Remembering  he  had  quite  changed  in  appearance  since 
he  was  seen  by  the  old  Jew,  Frank  took  a  fancy  to  drift 
past,  and  hear  what  Moses  was  saying. 

The  old  Jew  was  excited.  He  waved  his  arms,  as  he 
exclaimed : 

"Meeshter  Einstine,  Meeshter  Einstine,  if  der  beople 
don'd  stob  tellin'  dat  mein  vife,  Repecca,  set  dat  vire,  I 
vas  a  ruint  man!  I  must  haf  dat  insurance,  Meeshter 
Einstine !" 

"Veil,  Meeshter  Mosesh,"  said  the  other  Jew,  "you  vas 
a  man  vat  knows  your  own  pusiness,  but  I  vind  id  petter 
to  go  indo  inzolvenzy  than  to  haf  a  vire." 

Frank  walked  on  to  the  end  of  the  block,  and  then 
paused,  where  he  could  keep  an  eye  on  Moses. 

An  Italian  organ-grinder  was  coming  slowly  up  the 
street.  He  was  a  wreck  of  a  man,  seeming  scarcely  able 
to  totter  along  and  carry  the  organ.  His  clothes  were 
tattered  and  torn,  and  he  presented  a  most  miserable  ap- 
pearance. 


124  A  Cunning  Follower. 

Frank  paid  little  attention  to  the  organ-grinder  till  the 
fellow  was  close  at  hand. 

The  broken  tunes  that  came  from  the  wheezy  old  in- 
strument annoyed  the  boy. 

"Give-a  da  poor  ol'-a  man  some-a-thing  ?"  entreated  the 
Italian.  "Poor  ol'-a  man  have-a  da  monk'  two  day  'go; 
now  da  monk'  be  dead-a.  Give-a  da  poor  ol'-a  man  some- 
a-thing." 

Frank  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket. 

"Good-a  boy !"  said  the  organ-grinder,  eagerly.  "When 
poor  ol'-a  man  have-a  da  monk',  den  da  monk'  pic-ca  up- 
pa  da  cent-a.  Now  da  poor  ol'-a  man  no-a  have-a  da 
monk',  he  no-a  find-a  man-a  cent-a  to  pic-ca  up-pa.  You 
have-a  lot-ta  mon'.  You  never-r-r  miss-a  one  dol' ;  give-a 
da  poor  ol'-a  man-a  one  dol'." 

"Well,"  said  Frank,  falling  to  slang  as  most  fitting  for 
the  occasion,  "you've  got  a  crust !" 

"Yes-sa,  yes-sa,"  nodded  the  dago,  fishing  around  in  his 
pockets;  "have-a  da  crust-a.  No-a  have-a  netting  els'-a 
to  eat-a." 

Then  he  produced  a  crust  of  bread,  on  which  he  began 
to  gnaw. 

Frank  was  pretty  familiar  with  beggars'  tricks,  but  the 
readiness  with  which  the  old  man  produced  the  crust  of 
bread  quite  staggered  the  boy. 

"Great  Scott!"  thought  Frank.  "That  came  along  as 
if  he  was  expecting  me  to  say  just  what  I  did." 

Aloud,  he  asked : 

"Why  don't  you  buy  something  to  eat  with  the  money 
you  pick  up  each  day  ?" 

"No-a  pic-ca  up-pa  much  since  da  monk'  he  die," 
whined  the  old  man,  sadly.  "Da  monk'  dance-a  on  da 
hand-org',  please-a  da  children,  get-ta  da  pennies  da-a 
way.  When  da  monk'  he  die,  ol'-a  Benito  hold-a  him  in 
his  arms-a,  cry,  cry,  cry,  all-a  sam'-a  lik-ka  one  child. 
When  da  monk'  die,  ol'-a  Benito  be  vera  near-a  broke  at 
da  heart." 

"That's  a  very  slick  story,"  smiled  Frank,  "and  you  de- 
serve something  for  inventing  such  a  pathetic  tale.  Now, 
here  is  a  dollar,"  taking  out  a  silver  dollar  in  one  hand, 
"and  here  is  a  nickel,"  taking  a  nickel  out  in  the  other. 
"If  I  believed  you  were  honest  and  deserving,  I'd  give  you 


A  Cunning  Follower.  125 

the  dollar;  as  I  do  not  believe  you  are  honest  and  de- 
serving, I  will  give  you — nothing." 

He  returned  both  the  dollar  and  the  nickel  to  his  pock- 
ets. 

"Hol'-a  smok-a !"  cried  the  Italian,  nearly  falling  down 
in  dismay. 

Then  he  made  a  few  choice  remarks  in  Italian,  and 
moved  away. 

Frank  watched  the  old  organ-grinder  hobble  away,  and 
there  was  a  peculiar  smile  on  the  boy's  face. 

"Go  on !"  he  guttered.  "That  was  a  very  slick  change, 
and  you  played  your  part  very  well,  but  you  did  not  fool 
me,  Count  Antonio  Policastro !" 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A    NOTE    OF    WARNING, 

Frank  had  discovered  that  the  seemingly  crippled  and 
tottering  old  organ-grinder  was  the  peculiar  Italian  count 
of  the  Palmer  House. 

The  discovery  had  been  a  startling  one,  but  the  boy  had 
not  betrayed  the  fact  that  he  had  made  such  a  discovery. 

He  had  succeeded  in  concealing  his  surprise,  although 
it  had  cost  him  an  effort. 

Frank  realized  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  dodge  the 
"count"  at  the  stock  yards,  as  he  fancied  he  had. 

The  fellow  was  following  him  with  persistent  and 
alarming  determination. 

The  change  from  an  Italian  count  to  a  wretched  organ- 
grinder  was  remarkable,  and  very  few  lads  could  have  de- 
tected the  cheat. 

"He  must  be  one  of  the  old  wooden-leg's  rascally  tools," 
thought  the  boy.  "He  is  following  me  about,  and  watch- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  get  in  his  work.  Jupiter!  I 
don't  like  this!  It  gives  me  the  chills.  An  Italian  is 
liable  to  gently  insert  a  knife  in  the  small  of  a  fellow's 
back  just  when  the  fellow  is  expecting  nothing  of  the 
sort." 

For  a  moment  he  had  allowed  his  mind  to  wander  from 
the  old  Jew,  whom  he  had  resolved  to  watch. 

He  turned  quickly,  and  looked  for  Solomon  Moses,  be- 
ing barely  in  time  to  see  the  form  of  the  old  man  disap- 
pearing into  the  mouth  of  a  narrow  alleyway. 

"Great  Scott!"  gasped  Frank.  "I  came  near  losing 
you !" 

He  hurried  to  the  mouth  of  the  alley,  and  looked  for 
Moses ;  but,  to  his  dismay,  the  Jew  was  not  to  be  seen. 

"Where  has  he  gone?  I  believe  I  have  lost  him,  after 
all!" 

Down  the  alley  hurried  the  boy.     It  was  a  narrow, 


A  Note  of  Warning.  127 

wretched  sort  of  place,  and,  somehow,  Frank  felt  that  he 
was  none  too  safe  in  there. 

A  man  slouched  past,  staring  at  the  boy  from  the  cor- 
ners of  two  evil-looking  eyes.  Some  ragged  and  dirty 
children  were  quarreling  over  a  bit  of  yellow  cigar  rit>- 
bon.  A  slatternly  woman  openly  carried  a  pail  of  beer  in 
at  a  miserable  doorway. 

Frank  hurried  on,  finally  coming  out  upon  another  * 
street.    Still,  he  saw  nothing  of  the  Jew. 

"The  bogus  count  is  responsible  for  this!"  muttered 
Frank,  fiercely.  "If  I  had  not  given  him  a  few  minutes 
of  attention,  I  shouldn't  have  lost  track  of  Moses." 

He  stopped,  and  fell  to  thinking  it  over. 

"It  cannot  be  that  the  old  Jew  hurried  through  that 
alley,  and  then  got  away  on  this  street  before  I  could  reach 
this  spot,"  decided  the  boy.  "He  did  not  rush  into  the 
alley  in  a  hurry.  Unless  the  dago  gave  him  a  signal, 
Moses  had  no  reason  to  think  I  was  watching  him." 

But  Frank  felt  that  it  was  quite  possible  the  Jew  had 
been  given  a  warning  sign  by  the  organ-grinder.  In  that 
case,  without  doubt,  Moses  had  lost  no  time  in  getting 
under  cover. 

Why  he  was  followed  and  watched,  Frank  could  not  un' 
derstand,  although  he  fancied  he  was  regarded  as  a  spot- 
ter in  the  employ  of  the  police. 

Frank  finally  decided  that  Moses  had  not  passed 
through  the  alley.  That  being  the  case,  the  Jew  must 
have  entered  one  of  the  wretched  doorways  Frank  had 
passed. 

The  boy  turned  back  into  the  alley.  He  believed  the 
chances  were  against  him,  but  he  determined  to  make  a 
search  for  Moses. 

Slowly  he  moved  along,  keeping  his  eyes  open.  He 
well  knew  that  his  dress  and  appearance  would  make  him 
an  object  of  much  attention ;  but  there  was  no  time  or 
chance  for  him  to  alter  his  attire  and  assume  a  disguise. 

It  did  not  seem  to  Frank  that  Moses,  poor  though  the 
old  man  had  seemed,  was  a  person  to  accept  lodgings  in 
that  wretched  quarter,  unless  forced  to  do  so,  or  unless 
he  did  so  through  policy. 

Jews  are  thrifty,  and  they  flock  together.    The  people 


128  A  Note  of  Warning. 

of  the  alley  were  not  Jewish,  although  there  were  many 
Jew  stores  in  that  neighborhood. 

Frank  began  to  think  that  Moses  had  been  warned  by 
the  Italian,  and  had  lost  no  time  in  hiding  himself. 

That  being  the  case,  the  boy  felt  that  it  was  the  next 
thing  to  useless  to  search  for  the  old  rascal. 

Frank  was  beginning  to  grow  discouraged. 

He  paused  midway  in  the  alley,  and  looked  up. 

He  had  been  there  several  seconds,  when  he  saw  a  hand 
and  arm  reach  out  through  a  broken  pane  of  glass  in  a 
window  far  up  on  the  wall.  The  hand  was  small  and 
white ;  the  arm  was  round  and  shapely.  Somehow,  there 
was  something  dainty  and  refined  about  that  hand  and 
arm,  and  Frank  Merriwell  was  astounded  by  their  appear- 
ance in  that  wretched  quarter. 

Something  fluttered  downward  from  those  dainty 
fingers,  and  then  the  hand  was  withdrawn  from  view. 

For  several  seconds  Frank  stood  staring  up  at  the 
broken  window. 

Somehow,  he  felt  that  he  had  seen  that  hand  before— 
that  he  had  felt  those  white  fingers  within  his  clasp. 

He  looked  down  at  his  feet.  Something  white  lay  on 
the  ground,  and,  stooping,  he  picked  it  up. 

It  was  a  bit  of  paper,  wrapped  about  a  side-comb,  such 
as  might  be  used  by  a  girl,  and  tied  there  with  a  single 
strand  of  dark  golden  hair. 

Frank's  heart  gave  a  great  bound. 

"The  strange  girl  had  golden  hair!"  he  softly  palpi- 
tated. "This  looks  like  a  strand  from  her  head!  Is  it 
possible  I  have  found  her?" 

He  removed  the  paper. 

Something  was  written  upon  it  with  a  lead  pencil,  and 
the  writing  was  distinctly  feminine  and  girlish. 

In  a  moment  Frank  was  reading  the  words  written 
there : 

"FRANK  MERRIWELL  : — You  are  in  danger  here — great 
danger !  Go  away — do  not  come  back !  My  uncle  be- 
lieves you  are  a  police  spotter ;  he  thinks  I  told  you  things 
I  should  not;  he  says  you  are  dangerous.  You  may  be 
killed  if  you  do  not  go  away !  Never  mind  me.  If  they 


A  Note  of  Warning.  129 

keep  me  locked  here  a  month,  fed  on  bread  and  water,  I 
will  not " 

The  writing  ended  abruptly,  as  if  the  person  had  heard 
some  one  approaching,  and  had  not  been  able  to  finish. 

That  the  one  who  wrote  those  words  was  the  girl  he 
had  saved  from  the  railroad  wreck,  Frank  had  not  a 
doubt. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

BETWEEN      TWO      FIRES. 

i 

"I  have  found  her !"  thought  Frank,  exultantly.  "She 
is  up  there — a  captive !" 

He  again  read  the  last  words  of  the  unfinished  note. 

"If  they  keep  me  locked  here  a  month,  fed  on  bread  and 
water,  I  will  not " 

The  girl  had  become  rebellious,  and  she  was  a  pris- 
oner. 

All  the  chivalry  in  Frank's  nature  was  aroused,  and  he 
felt  ready  to  battle  for  her  against  a  score  of  ruffians. 

"She  must  have  seen  me  pass  when  I  went  through  this 
alley  in  the  first  place,"  thought  the  boy;  "and,  thinking 
it  possible  I  would  return,  she  began  to  write  this  note, 
watching  for  me  the  while.  She  saw  me  pause  beneath 
the  window — she  heard  some  on  approaching  the  room,  or 
she  feared  I  would  move  away — she  barely  had  time  to 
drop  this  to  me." 

He  thrust  the  scrap  of  paper  into  his  pocket. 

"What  can  I  do?"  That  was  the  question  he  asked 
himself,  and  it  was  not  easily  answered. 

He  felt  that  he  must  do  something ;  he  was  determined 
to  do  something.  He  would  not  go  away  and  leave  the 
girl  to  the  mercies  of  the  ruffians  who  held  her  a  captive. 

She  had  spoken  of  her  uncle,  and  Frank  knew  she  must 
mean  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg,  as  Solomon  Moses 
could  not  be  her  uncle. 

And  the  boy  was  sure  that  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg 
was  a  ruffian  capable  of  almost  any  deed. 

It  made  his  blood  boil  as  he  thought  of  her  position  in 
the  power  of  such  a  villain. 

Frank's  first  thought  was  to  call  on  the  police  for  aid. 

But  what  could  he  tell  the  police  ?  What  charge  could 
he  make  against  Solomon  Moses  and  the  man  with  the 
wooden  leg  ? 


Between  Two  Fires.  131 

While  he  was  searching  for  a  policeman,  the  birds  might 
take  the  alarm  and  fly  away. 

A  sudden  resolve  seized  Frank,  and,  a  moment  later, 
he  entered  the  wretched  doorway  that  he  knew  must  lead 
to  the  room  where  the  girl  was  confined. 

Up  a  dirty  flight  of  stairs  he  made  his  way.  The  stairs 
were  narrow,  and  they  twisted  here  and  there  in  a  strange 
fashion,  so  that  from  various  positions  which  he  reached 
he  was  able  to  look  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  several 
flights. 

From  the  narrow,  filthy  landings  doors  led  into  rooms 
on  every  hand. 

That  these  rooms  were  occupied,  Frank  quickly  discov- 
ered, for  from  all  sides  came  strange  sounds — the  quarrel- 
ing of  women,  crying  of  children,  singing  of  a  drunken 
man,  and  the  scraping  squeak  of  an  old  violin. 

Some  of  the  doors  were  standing  wide  open,  but  the 
boy  slipped  boldly  and  silently  past,  and,  by  a  rare  chance, 
did  not  encounter  any  one  on  the  stairway. 

At  length  he  reached  a  door  near  the  top,  and  he  was 
sure  the  girl  must  be  confined  near  at  hand. 

He  listened  at  a  door  that  was  securely  closed. 

The  door  was  a  shaky  old  affair,  and  Frank  distinctly 
heard  voices  in  the  room  beyond.  More  than  that,  he 
could  understand  what  was  being  said. 

It  seemed  that  some  kind  of  a  quarrel  was  going  on,  and 
he  recognized  the  voice  of  the  old  Jew,  who  was  whining : 

"Meeshter  Sullifan,  you  vill  be  der  ruin  uf  me !  You 
vill  haf  me  arresdet  der  handt  uf  der  law  by,  Meeshter 
Sullifan !  I  vos  a  boor  oldt  man,  und  I  nefer  been  aple  to 
make  much  moneysh " 

"Bah !"  snarled  another  voice,  which  Frank  recognized 
as  that  of  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg.  "You're  an  old 
hypocrite,  Moses!  You  have  been  a  crook  all  your  life, 
but  you've  been  so  sly  that  the  police  have  not  been  able 
to  nab  you.  That's  all  right,  but  don't  try  to  make  me 
think  you  are  honest.  Don't  try  to  make  me  believe  you 
did  not  know  the  kind  of  people  who  met  in  that  secret 
room  behind  your  store.  You  were  paid  well,  and  you 
kept  your  mouth  shut." 

"Veil,  uf  I  been  arresdet,  I  svare  I  don'd  know  vot  vas 
done  der  pack  room  in,  Meeshter  Sullifan,  und  I  tells  der 


132  Between  Two  Fires. 

trute.  Now  I  been  purned  oudt,  und  I  haf  to  gome  here 
ven  you  say  so,  und  I  haf  to  keeb  you,  und  I  haf  to  led 
dose  crooks  gome  here  to  see  you,  und  der  virst  ding  you 
know  I  been  arresdet  as  one  uf  der  gang.  I  don'd  lige 
dot,  Meeshter  Sullifan." 

"Like  it  or  not,  you'll  have  to  stand  it.  I  have  you 
under  my  thumb,  Moses,  and  you'll  do  exactly  as  I  say." 

The  listening  boy  heard  the  old  Jew  mutter  a  dismal 
groan. 

"Meeshter  Sullifan,  you  haf  no  symbathy  on  a  boor, 
oldt  man?" 

''Not  a  bit,  you  old  scoundrel!" 

"Veil,  I  peen  in  a  pad  scrabe.  Id  vas  der  virst  dime  in 
my  life  I  ged  dis  kindt  uf  a  scrabe  indo.  Uf  I  gome  oudt 
uf  id  all  righd,  I  don'd  do  no  more  pusiness  your  kindt  uf 
beoble  vid." 

"If  we  come  out  all  right,  and  get  rid  of  our  stock,  I'll 
pay  you  so  much  you'll  be  glad  to  keep  in  with  us." 

Frank  had  hoped  to  hear  something  that  would  solve 
some  of  the  mysteries  which  puzzled  him,  but  he  was 
doomed  to  disappointment.  However,  since  entering  the 
alley,  he  had  discovered  what  hold  the  man  of  the  wooden 
leg  had  on  the  strange  girl.  The  man  was  her  uncle — 
possibly  her  legal  guardian. 

What  of  De  Lancey  Duncan?  How  was  he  related  to 
the  girl? 

Barely  had  Frank  asked  himself  the  question  when  he 
heard  a  sound  like  the  sudden  flinging  open  of  a  door,  fol- 
lowed by  the  voice  of  the  boy,  crying : 

"Come  on — come  out  here!  Here's  a  pretty  sort  of  a 
sister !  See  if  you'll  dare  talk  to  Uncle  Bardy  as  you've 
been  talking  to  me !" 

"Sister!"  muttered  the  lad  outside  the  door.  "She  is 
the  fellow's  sister!" 

Then  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  girl  uttering  an  appeal : 

"Don't,  Dell — please  don't!  You  are  hurting  my 
wrists!  You  never  abused  me  in  this  way  before! 
You've  always  been  good  to  me.  What  has  changed  you 
so?" 

"Your  disgusting  foolishness,"  was  the  answer.  "Here 
Uncle  Bardy  is  working  to  make  us  rich,  and  you  are  get- 
ting contrary  and  dangerous." 


Between  Two  Fires.  133 

"He  is  working  to  get  us  all  into  prison !"  rang  out  the 
clear  voice  of  the  girl.  "My  father  was  an  honest  man, 
and  he  believed  Uncle  Sullivan  an  honest  man  when  he 
left  us  in  uncle's  care !  but  Bardy  Sullivan  turned  our  old 
home  into  a  workshop  for  criminals,  and  he  has  been  try- 
ing to  make  us  assist  him  in  his  unlawful  work.  I  did 
yield  at  first,  but,  now  that  I  see  where  it  will  lead  us,  I 
am  done  with  it  forever !" 

"You  little  fool !"  snarled  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg. 
"You  would  ruin  us  all !  You  may  have  ruined  us  al- 
ready by  what  you  told  that  boy  spotter !" 

"That  boy  was  no  spotter,  and  I  told  him  nothing." 

"I  know  better  than  that !  You  were  telling  him  things 
you  should  not  when  I  found  you  with  him  while  Moses* 
store  burned.  You  can't  make  a  fool  of  me !" 

"And  you  can't  make  a  dupe  of  me!  Shut  me  up- 
keep me  on  bread  and  water — kill  me — I'll  never  aid  you 
in  your  lawless  schemes  again!" 

The  listening  boy  outside  the  door  felt  like  uttering  a 
cheer  of  admiration  and  delight. 

"There  is  a  brave  girl !"  he  thought. 

Then  the  voice  of  the  old  Jew  was  heard. 

"My  tear  Mish  Lawrenze,"  whined  the  old  fellow,  "I 
hobe  you  don'd  ged  poor  oldt  Solomon  Moshesh  indo  no 
scrabe  vid  der  law — poor  oldt  Solomon  Moshesh,  vat  vas 
losd  his  sdore  und  all  uf  his  elecant  sdock  by  vire !  I  vas 
an  oldt  man,  Mish  Lawrenze,  und  I  vould  die  vid  a  proken 
heart  uf  I  vas  arresdet,  my  tear." 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  get  anybody  into  trouble!"  half 
sobbed  the  girl.  "All  I  want  to  do  is  to  go  away — go 
back  home,  and  live  in  peace.  But  I'll  never  go  back 
there  and  have  the  same  old  work  go  on !  I'll  run  away — 
I'll  kill  myself— I'll  do  anything!" 

"You  talk  like  a  little  fool,  Lucy !"  sneered  the  voice  of 
the  boy  Frank  knew  as  De  Lancey  Duncan. 

"And  you  talk  like  a  young  criminal !"  the  girl  flashed 
back.  "You  have  been  ruined  by  this  man  we  call  uncle !" 

"Rot!" 

"It  is  the  truth!" 

"It  is  useless  to  talk  with  you !" 

"Quite  useless,  sir !" 

"Vait,"  pleaded  the  old  Jew,  who  seemed  to  be  terrified 


134  Between  Two  Fires. 

lest  the  girl  betray  them  all — "vait,  und  led  me  gall  my 
vife,  Repecca.  Maype  Repecca  been  aple  to  talk  some 
senze  vid  er  tear  young  laty." 

"It's  no  use!"  growled  the  owner  of  the  wooden  leg. 
"Nobody  can  talk  sense  to  her !  We'll  have  to  keep  her 
locked  up  while  we  are  disposing  of  our  goods." 

"Then  what?" 

"That's  the  question.  We'll  have  to  decide  about  that 
later.  Take  her  back." 

"If  you  would  give  me  some  comforts,  I  could  endure  it 
better ;  but  that  room  is  a  wretched  place.  It  doesn't  seem 
that  I  can  stay  there  very  long." 

"You'll  have  to !"  snarled  the  uncle.  "You  have  chosen 
that  place  instead  of  comfort  and  ease.  You  have  only 
yourself  to  blame.  Take  her  back,  Dell." 

"Come  on,  Lucy." 

At  this  moment  something  caused  Frank  to  leave  the 
door  and  peek  downstairs.  Halfway  up  the  shaking, 
winding  flights  came  a  creeping  figure,  making  no  noise, 
stealing  up  the  stairs,  bit  by  bit,  like  an  assassin  crawling 
on  an  unsuspecting  victim. 

It  was  the  bogus  organ-grinder,  Count  Antonio  Poli- 
castro ! 

"He  tracked  me  here!"  thought  Frank.  "I  have  been 
followed  in  here  by  that  wretch,  whom  I  had  forgotten. 
It  looks  as  if  I  am  in  a  bad  scrape,  for  I'm  caught  between 
two  fires !" 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CLEARING  UP. 

Of  a  sudden,  loud  voices  sounded  within  the  room  close 
at  hand,  and  Frank  listened  again. 

"Dell — brother!"  cried  the  girl,  appealing,  "will  you 
turn  against  your  own  sister  because  this  man — this  un- 
natural uncle — bids  you  do  so  ?" 

"Come  along,  Lucy ;  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself !" 

"I  believe  that  man  has  hypnotized  you !  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it  is  natural  for  you  to  be  a  criminal !  Stop !  Take 
your  hands  off  me !  I  won't  go !  Help !  Is  there  no  one 
to  help  me  now  ?" 

Bang — crash ! 

Frank  flung  himself  against  the  door,  and  it  went  down 
before  him. 

"Yes !"  he  cried,  in  a  ringing  tone ;  "there  is  some  one  to 
help  you !  I  am  here !" 

Into  the  room  he  sprang,  and  two  bounds  enabled  him 
to  reach  the  boy  who  stood  clutching  the  girl's  wrist. 

"Let  up !" 

Frank  tore  them  apart,  sent  the  boy  reeling,  placed  the 
girl  behind  him,  and  faced  the  old  Jew  and  Bardy  Sulli- 
van. 

For  a  moment  both  men  were  dazed  and  astounded  by 
this  sudden  and  unexpected  appearance  and  onset  of  the 
daring  boy. 

Sullivan  quickly  recovered,  and  roared : 

"It's  the  spotter!  Don't  let  him  escape!  We  are 
ruined  if  he  gets  away !" 

A  knife  glittered  in  the  man's  hand,  and  the  girl  uttered 
a  shriek  of  terror,  clutching  at  Frank. 

"What  made  you  come  here  ?    You  will  be  killed !" 

He  shook  her  off. 

"Don't  touch  me — leave  me  free  to  meet  them !" 

"Are  you  armed  ?" 

"No." 


136  Clearing  Up. 

"Then,  you  have  no  chance — you  are  lost !" 

"Yes,"  snarled  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg,  "this  will 
wind  up  your  career !" 

He  started  for  Frank,  but  the  old  Jew  caught  him,  and 
held  him  back,  crying : 

"No  you  don'd,  Meeshter  Sullivan!  Der  scrabe  vas 
pad  enough  now,  bud  you  don'd  mage  id  no  vorse  by 
killin'  somepody !" 

"Let  go!" 

"Veil,  I  guess  nod !" 

"Then,  I'll " 

"You  will  keep  still,  or  111  blow  the  whole  roof  of  your 
head  off,  Cagey  Joe !" 

A  man  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  he  held  a  revolver, 
which  was  leveled  straight  at  the  head  of  Bardy  Sullivan. 

The  man  with  the  revolver  was  the  Italian — the  organ- 
grinder — Count  Antonio  Policastro! 

He  lifted  his  other  hand,  and  placed  a  silver  whistle  to 
his  lips,  blowing  a  sharp,  rallying  call,  which  was  almost 
instantly  answered  from  the  alley. 

"Trapped!"  snarled  the  man  with  the  wooden  leg. 
"The  police  are  coming!  You  have  caught  me  at  last, 
NobHarlow!" 

"You  are  right,"  returned  the  man  in  the  doorway. 
"This  place  is  guarded  by  policemen  on  every  side,  and 
several  officers  are  coming  up  the  stairs  at  this  minute. 
There  is  absolutely  no  chance  for  you  to  escape." 

The  knife  disappeared  from  Bardy  Sullivan's  hand,  and 
he  laughed,  mockingly : 

"All  right,  my  slick  detective,"  he  said.  "Now,  you 
have  caught  me,  let's  see  you  prove  anything  against  me. 
It  is  possible  you  have  overshot  the  mark." 

The  policemen  appeared  behind  the  man  in  the  door- 
way, and  all  entered  the  room. 

"Secure  that  man  with  the  wooden  leg,  nab  the  old  Jew, 
and  arrest  the  two  boys  and  the  girl,"  directed  the  person 
Frank  had  believed  an  Italian.  "Do  not  let  anybody  es- 
cape." 

The  order  was  obeyed. 

"Why  do  you  arrest  this  boy  ?"  demanded  the  girl,  indi- 
cating Frank.  "He  has  done  nothing." 

"Hasn't,  eh  ?    That  remains  for  him  to  prove.     It  was 


Clearing  Up.  137 

by  following  him  that  I  found  you.  I  have  shadowed  him 
since  I  was  lucky  enough  to  run  upon  him  after  getting 
into  the  city,  although  he  was  suspicious  and  tried  to 
dodge  me.  I  did  not  have  time  to  change  my  disguise  en- 
tirely, so  I  changed  from  a  count  to  an  organ-grinder ;  but 
he  seemed  to  see  through  the  trick." 

"I  did,"  smiled  Frank ;  "but  I  swear  I  did  not  dream 
you  were  a  detective.  I  thought  you  belonged  to  this 
gang,  and " 

"That  sounds  first-rate,  but  I  do  not  believe  it  will  go. 
Why  did  you  go  to  such  extremes  to  avoid  arrest  before 
reaching  the  city  ?  In  some  way  you  tricked  me,  although 
I  followed  you  hot,  and  telegraphed  ahead  for  your  de- 
tention." 

"You — you  are  the  officer  who  tried  to  arrest  me  after 
we  passed  through  Valparaiso?" 

"Yes." 

"Now  I  understand  why  it  was  that  it  seemed  I  had 
seen  'Count  Antonio  Policastro'  before.  You  are  great  at 
disguising  yourself.  If  I  understood  this  man  right,  he 
called  you  Nob  Harlow.  I  have  heard  of  Nob  Harlow, 
the  detective." 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  have." 

At  this  moment  two  policemen,  who  had  been  searching, 
dragged  Solomon  Moses'  wife,  Rebecca,  into  the  room. 
Each  officer  also  brought  an  alligator-skin  grip. 

"We  have  found  them !"  they  cried. 

Harlow  regarded  the  two  grips  with  surprise. 

"There  are  two,"  he  said. 

"One  is  mine,"  Frank  promptly  claimed. 

"Open  them,"  directed  Harlow. 

One  was  opened,  and  it  contained  such  articles  as  a 
young  man  would  be  likely  to  carry  in  a  handbag  if  he 
were  traveling. 

"That  is  mine,"  asserted  Frank  Merriwell. 

"Open  the  other,"  ordered  he  detective. 

It  was  opened,  and  it  proved  to  be  quite  empty! 

A  sneering  laugh  came  from  the  lips  of  Bardy  Sulliv&n, 
and  he  said: 

"You  may  have  some  trouble  in  obtaining  proofs,  Mr. 
Harlow." 


138  Clearing  Up. 

"I  think  not,"  said  the  detective,  coolly.  "Officers,  re- 
move that  man's  wooden  leg." 

Sullivan  remonstrated  and  resisted,  but  the  policemen 
held  him  fast  and  unstrapped  the  leg,  which  was  handed 
to  Harlow,  The  detective  quickly  removed  a  large  cork 
from  the  end  of  the  leg  which  joined  the  man's  am- 
putated limb,  and  then  it  was  seen  that  the  wooden  leg 
was  hollow  and  stuffed  with  bank  notes. 

"I  have  wondered  why  your  wooden  leg  was  so  large, 
Cagey  Joe,"  said  the  detective,  speaking  to  Bardy  Sulli- 
van; "but  I  tumbled  to  the  secret  at  last.  I  have  never 
till  the  present  moment  been  able  to  find  a  dollar  of  the 
queer  upon  you,  although  I  have  caused  your  arrest 
four  times,  and  I  knew  you  were  shoving  the  stuff.  This 
leg  has  been  a  fine  hiding  place." 

"The  queer?"  cried  Frank.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
money  is " 

"Counterfeit,  every  scrap  of  it,"  asserted  Nob  Har- 
!ow. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Frank  to  prove  he  was  in 
no  way  connected  with  the  gang  of  counterfeiters,  of 
which  Bardy  Sullivan,  or  "Cagey  Joe,"  was  the  leader. 
He  was  released  from  custody. 

The  right  name  of  "De  Lancey  Duncan"  was  Delmont 
Lawrence,  and  Lucy  was  his  sister.  At  the  death  of  their 
father,  Sullivan,  the  brother  of  their  mother,  who  was 
also  dead,  had  been  appointed  their  guardian.  Sullivan 
was  a  crook,  although  at  that  time  he  was  almost  univer- 
sally believed  to  be  an  honest  man. 

Almost  immediately,  Sullivan  began  the  manufacture 
of  counterfeit  money  at  the  home  of  the  boy  and  girl 
over  whom  he  was  guardian.  In  this  he  was  aided  by 
Blume  Fales,  who  did  the  engraving.  They  had  suc- 
ceeded in  fooling  the  secret  service  officers,  who  had  twice 
searched  the  place  for  bogus  money  or  plates,  but  had 
found  nothing. 

At  length,  Fales  was  arrested  on  an  old  charge,  and 
Sullivan  found  he  must  go  it  alone.  He  forced  the  boy 
and  girl  to  aid  him,  although  Lucy  did  so  under  re- 
monstrance. 

Sullivan  did  not  dare  bring  the  money  to  the  distribut- 
ing point  in  Chicago,  which  was  the  old  Jew's  store, 


Clearing  Up.  139 

so  he  had  the  boy  and  girl  bring  it  in,  having  arranged 
to  meet  them  in  the  city. 

In  some  way,  he  found  that  the  boy  was  to  be  arrested 
before  Chicago  was  reached,  and  he  hastened  to  meet 
him  and  give  the  warning.  Thus  it  came  about  that, 
through  their  decided  resemblance  to  each  other,  and 
through  the  fact  that  Lawrence  had  swapped  grips,  Frank 
was  caught  by  Harlow. 

Then  came  the  wreck.  Frank  saved  the  girl.  She 
found  the  grip  that  contained  the  "queer  money,"  and 
she  succeeded  in  bringing  it  into  Chicago.  By  chance, 
the  detective  found  Frank  at  the  Palmer  House,  and 
the  rest  is  known  to  the  reader. 

Sullivan  was  sent  to  Joliet  for  a  long  period.  Solomon 
Moses  received  a  lighter  sentence,  as  also  did  Rebecca, 
his  wife. 

Dell  Lawrence  was  consigned  to  a  house  of  correc- 
tion, while  Lucy  found  a  home  in  an  institution  for  the 
shelter  and  protection  of  homeless  girls. 

She  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Frank,  which  he  received 
before  he  left  Chicago.  What  she  said  in  that  letter  re- 
mains a  secret,  for  Frank  destroyed  it,  and  told  no  one 
what  its  contents  were. 

"And,  now,  ho!  for  Colorado  and  the  West,"  said 
Frank,  some  days  later.  "I've  had  enough  of  Chicago  for 
the  present." 

"So  vos  I,"  said  Hans. 

"Yes,  let  us  move  on  by  all  means,"  came  from  the 
professor,  "and  I  trust  we  shall  leave  all  our  enemies 
behind." 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

"MR.  HARD  PILL/' 

Shortly  after  crossing  the  line  which  divides  the  States 
of  Kansas  and  Colorado,  the  engine  of  the  Overland 
Flyer  shrieked  a  wild  warning  of  "down  brakes." 

The  passengers  were  immediately  thrown  into  a  state 
of  confusion  and  excitement,  as  several  attempts  at  train 
wrecking,  one  of  which  was  successful,  had  been  made  in 
Colorado  within  the  past  few  months. 

The  brakes  were  applied  with  a  sudden  violence, 
which  checked  the  forward  movement  of  the  train  so 
abruptly  that  many  of  the  passengers  were  thrown  from 
their  seats. 

"Shiminy  Gristmas !"  came  from  Hans,  who  had  fallen 
from  one  of  the  comfortable  parlor  car  seats,  on  which 
he  had  been  taking  a  quiet  nap.  "Vot  vos  der  madder 
mit  Hannah,  ain'd  id  ?" 

"Boys,  boys!"  roared  Professor  Scotch;  "we've  jumped 
the  track!  Hold  fast  before  everything  goes  all  to 
smash !" 

"Get  up,  Hans;  keep  cool,  professor,"  advised  Frank, 
who  had  remained  on  his  chair  for  all  of  the  jarring 
shocks.  "I  reckon  we've  struck  a  snag  of  some  kind,  but 
it  is  useless  to  get  excited  about  it." 

"Oxcited !"  squawked  the  Dutch  lad,  getting  upon  his 
feet  and  pitching  headlong  into  the  lap  of  the  professor, 
who  was  nearly  crushed.  "I  don'd  peen  oxcited,  vos  I, 
brofessor?  Vot's  der  madder  mit  you?"  he  asked,  as  the 
unfortunate  man  struggled  to  cast  him  off.  "You  peen 
oxcited  myseluf,  ain'd  id?' 

"Help!"  rumbled  the  professor,  in  a  smothered  tone, 
"Get  up !  You're  sitting  on  my  stomach." 

"Veil,  you  peen  kickin'  at  efery  hodel  sense  we  left 
der  East  because  you  don'd  ged  someding  to  set  veil  your 
sdomach  on,  und  now  you  kick  ven  you  ged  someding 
to  do  dot.  You  vos  the  hardest  man  to  suit  vot  I  nefer 
seen." 


"Mr.  Hard  Pill."  141 

"Get  up,  Hans,"  said  Frank :  "Have  you  got  a  grudge 
against  the  professor  so  that  you  are  trying  to  kill  him 
and  say  it  was  done  in  a  railroad  accident  ?" 

"Oh,  I  don'd  vant  to  kill  him,"  answered  Hans  Dun- 
nerwust ;  "but  I  dinks  maype  I  holdt  him  sdill  so  he  don'd 
excited  get.  He  mighd  jump  oudt  der  vindow." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  train  came  to  a  stop.  Windows 
were  thrown  open,  and  excited  passengers  thrust  their 
heads  out  to  ask  what  had  happened,  while  trainmen  and 
other  passengers  hastened  to  get  off  and  run  forward. 

"Come  on,  Hans,"  said  Frank,  "give  the  professor  a 
rest,  while  we  get  out  and  stretch  our  legs." 

"Yaw,"  grinned  the  Dutch  lad,  "we  will  done  dot,Vran- 
kie.  Goot-py,  brofessor.  Shust  keep  cool  und  led  your 
hair  curl  dot  paid  spot  on  your  headt  mit.  Maype  you 
seen  us  pack  apoudt  den  minutes  in.  Dra-la-loo !" 

Then,  airily  waving  his  hand,  Hans  followed  Frank 
from  the  car,  leaving  Professor  Horace  Orman  Tyler 
Scotch  gasping  for  breath  on  the  chair. 

"What's  happened?"  asked  Frank,  springing  from  the 
car  steps  to  the  ground.  "Why  did  we  stop?" 

"Don't  know,"  puffed  a  fat  man,  who  was  hurrying 
forward.  • 

"Obstruction  on  the  track,  I  reckon,"  said  another  man, 
who  was  following  the  fat  man. 

"Led's  go  vorwart  und  see  dot  instruction,  Vrankie," 
urged  Hans. 

"Come  on." 

Away  they  went,  the  Dutch  lad  panting  at  the  heels  of 
his  companion,  who  ran  easily,  as  if  without  effort. 

A  short  distance  in  front  of  the  powerful  engine  an  ex- 
cited knot  of  men  were  gathered  on  the  track.  In  the 
centre  was  a  wretched  wreck  of  humanity — a  tramp  in 
rags  and  tatters.  To  Frank  he  seemed  a  most  miserable 
specimen  of  humanity.  He  was  tall  and  thin,  so  thin  that 
he  looked  as  if  he  had  not  eaten  a  square  meal  for  a  year ; 
his  cheeks  were  sunken,  and  his  face  was  covered  with  a 
stubbed  red  beard  of  a  week's  growth;  his  nose  had  a 
purple  tinge,  and  he  seemed  half-frozen,  for  it  was  late  in 
the  fall,  and  the  weather  was  not  mild,  even  on  the  open 
plains. 

This  man  was  speaking. 


142  "Mr.  Hard  Pill." 

"Yes,  gents,"  he  was  saying,  "I  found  the  loose  rail  at 
this  particular  curve.  If  I  hadn't  diskivered  it,  this  train 
would  be  in  the  creek  down  there  now,  and  some  of  the 
passengers  would  be  in  eternity.  This  is  the  first  time  in 
a  long,  weary,  and  most  disappointing  life  that  I  have  ever 
found  an  opportunity  to  distinguish  myself.  I  grasped  it 
as  a  drowning  man  grasps  a  straw ;  I  clung  to  it  as  an 
Ordway  plaster  clings  to  a  poor  man's  back.  I  heard 
the  train  approaching.  I  rushed  to  stop  it.  You  know 
the  rest." 

The  conductor  confronted  the  tramp. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  be  here,  sir?"  he  demanded, 
sternly. 

"I  was  strolling  along  the  track  for  my  health,"  an- 
swered the  vagrant,  with  a  queer  wink,  which  wrinkled 
the  entire  side  of  his  face  and  moved  his  scalp.  "Walk- 
ing, sir,  is  a  most  healthful  exercise,  and  I  indulge  in  it 
each  day — if  I  can't  find  a  place  to  ride." 

"You're  a  tramp !" 

"No,  sir !  No,  sir !  I  scorn  the  insinuation,  sir !  I  am 
a  gent  of  leisure." 

"Which  way  were  you  walking  ?" 

"Toward  Denver." 

"Denver  is  a  long  distance  from  here.  Where  did  you 
come  from?" 

"Well,  the  last  place  of  importance  in  which  I  stopped 
was  Kansas  City.  I  came  from  Chicago  to  Kansas  City 
in  a  special  car — that  is,  a  car  specially  for  the  transporta- 
tion of  grain.  I  started  from  Kansas  City  for  Denver  in 
another  special  car,  but  there  seemed  to  be  some  mis- 
understanding, and  I  was  dropped  by  the  wayside.  I  am 
thinking  of  suing  the  railroad  for  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars. That  may  be  another  opportunity  for  me.  I  have 
never  struck  an  opportunity  to  make  a  fortune  before  this. 
In  fact,  I  am  known  far  and  wide  as  'the  man  who  never 
had  an  opportunity.' " 

"What's  your  name?" 

"Um,  let  me  see?  Wonder  if  I  can  remember  my  orig- 
inal name  ?  Ha !  yes,  I  have  it !  I  was  christened  Harden 
Pillsbury,  but,  for  short,  my  most  intimate  friends  and 
companions  have  come  to  call  me  Hard  Pill.  To  be  sure, 


"Mr.  Hard  Pill." 

this  is  a  familiar  mode  of  address  that  I  do  not  counte- 
nance from  strangers." 

"From  your  appearance,  I  should  say  it  is  most  appro- 
priate. How  did  you  happen  to  discover  this  loose  rail, 
Mr.  Hard  Pill?" 

"Oh,  I  dunno.  I  jest  noticed  the  spikes  had  been 
pulled— that's  all." 

"Are  you  aware  there  have  been  several  attempts  at 
train-wrecking  in  this  part  of  the  State  lately  ?" 

"Nope." 

"Haven't  heard  anything  about  it  ?" 

"Nope." 

"Papers  have  been  full  of  it." 

"Never  read  papers ;  too  much  work.*' 

"You  appear  very  innocent." 

"I  be." 

"Look  here,  my  beauty,"  came  sharply  from  the  lips  ot 
the  conductor,  "do  you  know  what  I  think  ?" 

"I'm  no  mind  reader." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  I  believe  you  know  more  than  you 
see  fit  to  tell ;  I  believe  you  know  something  about  the  re- 
moval of  these  spikes." 

"Oh,  say!  what're  ye  trying  to  give  us!  That's  rot! 
You  don't  think  I'd  pull  the  spikes  ?" 

"I  do  not  think  any  better  of  you." 

"Why,  how'd  I  do  it — with  my  teeth?" 

"You  may  have  hidden  the  instrument  with  which  you 
pulled  them,  Mr.  Hard  Pill." 

"What  would  I  do  it  for?" 

"Perhaps  to  get  a  ride  to  Denver — perhaps  to  get  the 
passengers  in  their  gratitude  to  make  a  purse  for  you — 
possibly  to  wreck  the  train.  Your  conscience  may  have 
smitten  you  after  you  removed  the  spikes,  so  you  hastened 
to  stop  the  train.  You  are  a  rascal — I  can  see  it  in  your 
face.  It  is  my  opinion  you  ought  to  be  hanged  for  at- 
tempting to  wreck  this  train. 

The  conductor  was  angry,  and  he  wanted  to  frighten 
the  tramp.  Some  of  the  passengers  were  angry  also,  and 
they  shouted : 

"Hang  him!  Lynch  him!  String  him  to  a  telegraph 
pole !" 

Hard  Pill  looked  frightened. 


144  "Mr   Hard  Pill." 

"Gents,  gents !  he  called,  appealingly ;  "I'm  a  norphan, 
and  I  never  had  but  one  mother !  Luck  has  run  against 
me  all  my  life,  and  I've  never  found  many  opportuni- 

"You'll  find  an  opportunity  at  the  end  of  a  rope  now !" 
shouted  a  fat  passenger. 

"Yes,"  cried  an  excitable  little  man,  "an  opportunity  to 
do  a  fancy  dance  on  empty  air !  Hang  the  train-wrecker !" 

"That's  dead  wrong,"  muttered  Frank.  "I  believe  in 
giving  a  man  a  show.  This  fellow  is  a  tramp,  but  he 
may  have  told  the  truth  about  the  rail." 

"Yaw,"  nodded  Hans;  "he  may  haf  dold  der  trute, 
Vrankie,  but  I'll  pet  id  makes  him  sick  uf  he  did." 

"If  you  think  we're  fools  enough  to  raise  a  purse  for 
you  and  make  a  hero  of  you,  you  are  very  much  mis- 
taken," declared  the  conductor.  "We'll  take  you  to  Den- 
ver, and  turn  you  over  to  the  law." 

"That's  right!  that's  right!"  cried  several  voices. 

"Well,"  said  Hard  Pill,  "I  did  think  I'd  found  an  op- 
portunity to  become  famous,  "but  it  begins  to  look  like  an 
opportunity  to  be  hung.  I  ain't  goin'  to  help  ye  put  the 
rope  round  my  neck." 

Then  he  gave  a  shout,  struck  out  with  both  hands, 
knocked  down  two  men,  broke  from  the  crowd,  and  took 
to  his  heels. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE    TRAIN    WRECKERS. 

"Stop  him!" 

Somebody  shouted  the  words,  but  it  was  no  easy  thing 
to  stop  the  tramp,  who  seemed  thoroughly  frightened. 

"Out  of  the  way!" 

Away  he  went  across  the  open  ground.  The  fat  man 
fumbled  furiously  in  his  hip  pocket,  bringing  forth  a 
revolver. 

"I'll  stop  him!" 

"No,  you  don't!" 

Frank  uttered  the  latter  exclamation,  thrusting  up  the 
hand  that  held  a  revolver  which  had  been  drawn  and 
pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  running  man. 

The  revolver  spoke,  but  the  bullet  whistled  harmlessly 
over  the  head  of  Mr.  Hard  Pill,  who  plunged  into  a  small 
ravine,  and  quickly  disappeared. 

"What  do  you  mean?  What  do  you  mean?"  splut- 
tered the  fat  man,  glaring  at  Frank. 

"I  do  not  mean  to  stand  still  and  see  you  make  a  target 
of  a  poor  fellow  like  that." 

"He  is  a  vagabond — a  ruffian — a  train-wrecker!  He 
might  have  sent  us  all  into  eternity !" 

"A  vagabond  he  certainly  is,  but  a  ruffian  and  train- 
wrecker — perhaps  so,  perhaps  not.  It  is  possible  he  told 
the  truth — it  is  possible  you  would  be  a  dead  man  at  this 
moment,  buried  beneath  the  wreck  of  this  train  if  that 
wretched  tramp  had  not  happened  along  and  discovered 
the  loose  rail.  You  had  no  right  to  shoot  at  him,  and  you 
should  be  punished  for  such  a  reckless  and  reprehensible 
act!" 

"What — what!  You  young  upstart!  Do  you  dare 
speak  to  me  like  this — do  you  dare?" 

"The  boy  is  right,"  declared  the  conductor,  promptly. 
"I  was  trying  to  frighten  the  tramp,  but  there  was  no 
excuse  for  such  a  reckless  use  of  firearms.  You  must  be 


146 


The  Train  Wreckers. 


one  of  those  Easterners  who  have  an  idea  that  promiscu- 
ous shooting  is  indulged  in  all  over  the  West.  You 
should  be  arrested  and  fined  for  carrying  concealed 
weapons." 

Some  of  the  passengers  joined  in  with  the  conductor, 
and  the  fat  man  found  himself  regarded  with  universal 
contempt,  at  which  he  hastened  to  beat  a  retreat  to  his 
car,  muttering  and  growling  as  he  departed. 

Frank  was  complimented  for  his  prompt  action,  and 
he  was  regarded  with  no  little  admiration. 

Directions  were  given  for  the  re-spiking  of  the  rail,  so 
the  train  might  proceed. 

"Come,  Hans,"  said  Frank.  "We'll  have  time  to  walk 
out  this  way  a  short  distance  before  the  train  goes  on, 
and  we  may  find  Mr.  Hard  Pill  hidden  out  there  some- 
where." 

"Veil,  I  don'd  peen  surbrised  at  dot,  but  I  pet  you  your 
life  he  don'd  found  a  hole  long  enough  for  him  to  grawl 
indo  alretty  yet." 

Hans  followed  at  Frank's  heels,  like  a  big  dog,  and 
they  followed  along  the  bank  of  the  ravine,  into  which 
they  could  look.  Pretty  soon  they  came  to  where  it 
branched,  and  some  scrub  bushes  hid  them  from  the 
train. 

"Say,  Vrankie,"  said  Hans,  "don't  we  petter  gone  pack 
britty  queek?  Maype  dot  train  vill  valk  avay  mitoudt 
us."" 

"The  engineer  will  whistle  a  warning  before  the  train 
starts,  and  we'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  get  back." 

So  they  went  onward  still  farther. 

All  at  once  Hans  caught  Frank  by  the  arm,  and  pointed 
down  into  the  ravine,  exclaiming: 

"Uf  dot  don'd  peen  Meshter  Hardt  Bill  you  vos  mis- 
daken !" 

Frank  had  seen  a  man  quickly  disappear  from  view 
behind  some  bowlders. 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  few  words  with  him,  Hans,"  he 
said.  "jCome  on." 

Down  into  the  ravine  slid  Frank,  and  the  Dutch  lad 
came  tumbling  after,  losing  his  footing,  and  landing  on 
his  stomach  with  such  violence  that  his  breath  was  driven 
in  a  great  grunt  from  his  lips. 


The  Train  Wreckers.  147 

"Shimminy  Gristmas !"  he  gurgled.  "Uf  I  don'd  look 
oudt,  you  vill  kill  meinself!" 

"Which  way  did  the  tramp  go?" 

"Dot  rock  aroundt,"  answered  the  Dutch  boy,  scram- 
bling to  his  feet. 

Fearing  he  might  be  lost,  Hans  kept  as  close  to  Frank 
as  possible,  and  both  hurried  around  the  rocks,  running 
into  the  midst  of  a  party  of  men  who  were  crouching  be- 
hind the  bowlders. 

Every  man  had  his  face  concealed  by  a  mask.  They 
were  armed  with  rifles,  revolvers,  and  knives,  and  each 
one  held  a  weapon  ready  for  instant  use. 

"Great  Scott!"  gasped  Frank. 

"Dunder  und  blitzen  !"  gurgled  Hans. 

A  dozen  rifles  were  pointed  at  the  heads  of  the  two 
lads,  and  one  of  the  men  sternly  said : 

"Be  still,  or  we'll  blow  the  tops  of  your  heads  off! 
Don't  make  an  outcry !  Up  with  your  hands !" 

"Caught !"    palpitated    Frank. 

"Fast!"  groaned  Hans. 

"Up  with  your  hands!"  repeated  the  man,  in  a  low, 
harsh  tone. 

"Up  they  go,"  said  Merriwell. 

"Uf  mein  ain'd  ub  far  enough  vor  you,  id  voss  pecause 
mein  arms  ain'd  long  enough,"  exclaimed  the  Dutch  boy, 
his  teeth  chattering  and  his  eyes  rolling. 

"Disarm  them,"  ordered  the  spokesman  of  the  masks. 

The  boys  were  searched,  and  a  handsome  self-acting 
revolver  was  removed  from  one  of  Frank's  pockets.  On 
Hans,  concealed  in  some  manner,  they  discovered  an  old 
horse-pistol  that  was  not  loaded. 

"Tie  them,"  directed  the  leader. 

"Hold  on,"  said  Frank,  quickly.  "What  have  we  done 
to  merit  such  treatment?" 

"Keep  still !"  muttered  one  of  the  men,  and  the  cold 
muzzle  of  a  rifle  touched  the  boy's  cheek. 

Roth  lads  were  quickly  and  skillfully  tied. 

"Gag  them !" 

"Dot  seddles  id!"  murmured  Hans,  who  was  ghastly 
pale.  "You  vos  a  goner !" 

"Give  us  a  show,"  protested  Frank.  "You  have  no 
reason  to  treat  us  this  way,  and " 


148 


The  Train  Wreckers. 


Again  the  cold  muzzle  of  the  rifle  came  against  his 
cheek,  giving  him  a  chill  and  stopping  him  abruptly. 

The  masked  men  worked  swiftly,  and  the  gags  were 
soon  applied  to  the  mouths  of  both  boys. 

Sitting  on  the  ground,  Frank  and  Hans  stared  at  each 
other  in  helpless  dismay. 

"There,"  muttered  the  man  who  had  given  the  orders, 
"there  can  be  do  danger  that  they  will  shout  and  bring 
the  men  from  the  train  on  us  now." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  hoarsely  chuckled  a  gigantic  man, 
who  had  lost  the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand.  "If  they 
were  sent  out  to  work  that  little  game,  there's  goin'  to  be  a 
hitch  in  the  proceedin's." 

"But  we  must  get  away  from  here,"  said  a  third.  "They 
may  take  a  fancy  to  hunt  for  these  chaps,  and " 

"Right,"  broke  in  the  leader.  "Our  little  game  was 
spoiled  for  to-day,  and  it  is  dangerous  in  this  vicinity, 
so  we'd  better  skip  out." 

Frank  listened  to  every  word.  They  had  not  plugged 
his  ears,  and  he  was  determined,  if  possible,  to  remem- 
ber the  voices  of  these  men. 

Frank  knew  they  had  stumbled  right  into  the  midst  of 
a  band  of  train-wreckers — the  very  band  that  had  been 
operating  in  Colorado  of  late.  These  were  the  men 
who  had  attempted  to  wreck  the  train — these  men  had 
loosened  the  rail. 

Where  was  Hard  Pill,  the  tramp  ? 

Looking  around,  Frank  could  see  nothing  of  the 
strange  individual  who  had  stopped  the  train,  and  who 
had  been  forced  to  flee  for  his  life  after — as  it  seemed — 
he  had  averted  a  catastrophe  and  saved  many  lives. 

Still  Hans  had  fancied  he  saw  the  tramp  dodge  around 
those  very  rocks. 

If  he  was  with  the  party,  his  face  was  concealed  by  a 
mask,  and  he  had  exchanged  his  ragged  outer  garments 
for  other  clothes. 

Frank  decided  the  man  was  not  there. 

What  had  become  of  Hard  Pill? 

Remembering  the  ravine  branched  near  at  hand,  Frank 
believed  the  tramp  must  have  gone  the  other  way,  thus 
escaping  running  straight  into  the  clutches  of  the  train- 
wreckers. 


The  Train  Wreckers.  149 

The  masked  men  were  making  preparations  to  leave. 

" What'll  we  do  with  these  boys  ?"  asked  one. 

"Leave  them  here,"  answered  the  leader.  "We  can't 
bother  with  them,  and  they  won't  be  able  to  holler  loud 
enough  to  make  anybody  hear  more  than  a  mile  away." 

"People  from  the  train  may  search  for  'em." 

"Let  'em  search.  By  the  time  they're  found  we'll  be 
where  we  can  mount  our  horses  and  defy  pursuit.  We 
can't  take  the  kids  along,  so  leave  them." 

Frank  felt  both  dismayed  and  relieved.  Somehow  he 
was  filled  with  dismay  at  the  thought  of  being  left  thus, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  gagged,  helpless;  but  he  was  re- 
lieved to  know  these  desperadoes  did  not  contemplate  do- 
ing them  any  further  injury. 

The  eyes  of  the  boys  met,  and  the  disgusted  look  that 
passed  over  Hans  Dunnerwust's  face  would  have  made 
Frank  laugh  aloud  had  the  gag  permitted  it. 

The  masked  men  gathered  up  their  weapons,  got  upon 
their  feet,  and  started  down  the  ravine. 

"So  long,  boys,"  called  the  giant,  with  a  farewell  wave 
of  his  mutilated  hand.  "Sorry  to  leave  ye  this  way, 
but  it  can't  be  helped.  Business  is  business,  and  our  bus- 
iness makes  it  necessary  for  us  to  be  somewhat  harsh  in 
our  measures  at  times.  This  is  one  of  the  times.  Hope 
the  wolves  won't  get  ye.  So  long.  We  may  meet  again." 

"Come  on!"  sharply  ordered  the  leader  of  the  band. 
"Don't  make  a  fool  of  yerself,  talking  so  much,  Hank." 

So  the  last  man  filed  down  the  ravine  and  disappeared 
from  view. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
LEFT! 

Frank  listened  till  the  sound  of  their  feet  died  out  io 
che  distance. 

Click-plunk,  click-plunk,  click-plunk!" 

It  was  the  men  of  the  train  re-spiking  the  rail  to  the 
sleepers,  and  Frank  knew  that  meant  that  the  Overland 
Flyer  would  soon  be  rushing  on  its  way  again,  with  the 
engineer  working  hard  to  make  up  lost  time  and  reach 
Denver  on  the  schedule. 

"It  looks  as  if  we  are  left,"  thought  Frank. 

He  saw  that  the  same  thought  gradually  worked  itself 
through  the  brain  of  the  Dutch  lad. 

What  could  they  do? 

If  they  were  left  there,  the  chances  were  that  they 
would  perish  from  the  cold,  if  it  did  not  happen  that 
they  were  devoured  by  wolves. 

Both  boys  strained  at  their  bonds  till  the  cords  cut  into 
their  wrists,  but  they  could  not  succeed  in  breaking  away. 

The  gags  kept  them  from  talking  or  shouting  for  aid. 
If  the  gags  were  not  in  their  mouths  they  might  succeed 
in  making  their  voices  heard  by  some  one  near  the  train. 

Frank  fell  to  hoping  that  some  of  the  passengers  would 
stroll  in  that  direction.  He  hoped  the  passengers  had 
noted  that  two  boys  had  wandered  away  and  failed  to 
return. 

Would  the  train  go  on  without  them  ? 

Frank  feared  it  might,  in  case  they  did  not  return  in 
time,  for  the  Overland  Flyer  could  not  afford  to  wait 
while  a  search  was  made  for  two  boys  who  had  been  fool- 
ish enough  to  wander  away  and  get  lost. 

Toot !  toot !  toot ! 

A  series  of  shrill  shrieks  from  the  engine  sent  an  elec- 
tric thrill  through  Frank  Merriwell. 

The  train  was  preparing  to  start,  and  that  was  a  warn- 
ing for  all  to  get  aboard. 


Left!  151 

A  dismal  groan  came  from  behind  the  gag  that  had 
been  forced  between  Hans  Dunnerwust's  teeth,  telling 
that  the  Dutch  boy  fully  understood  the  meaning  of  those 
whistles. 

Hans'  eyes  were  filled  with  a  questioning  light,  and  the 
expression  on  his  face  might  have  been  laughable  under 
other  circumstances.  Just  then  Frank  did  not  find  any- 
thing laughable  about  it. 

"The  professor,"  thought  Frank.  "Will  he  allow  them 
to  go  on  ?  will  he  go  on  himself  ?" 

He  knew  the  professor  would  be  unable  to  tell  if  they 
were  on  the  train  unless  he  made  a  thorough  search, 
and  there  would  be  no  time  for  anything  of  that  sort. 
Without  doubt,  Professor  Scotch  would  not  miss  them 
until  it  was  too  late. 

Again  Frank  fought  madly  with  his  bonds,  and  again 
he  was  baffled,  relinquishing  the  struggle  in  despair. 

But  his  brain  was  working.  If  their  feet  were  freed! 
How  could  the  trick  be  done  ? 

Again  the  engine  sent  forth  a  wild  shriek. 

In  frantic  haste,  Frank  flung  himself  at  full  length  on 
the  ground,  rolled  toward  Hans,  and  finally  twisted  about 
till  they  were  back  to  back,  his  fingers  touching  the  cord 
that  was  knotted  about  the  wrists  of  the  Dutch  youth. 

This  trick  was  not  easily  accomplished,  for  it  was  a 
long  time  before  Hans  could  understand  what  his  com- 
panion wanted  to  do.  At  length,  however,  Frank  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  into  the  position  desired,  and  he  began 
picking  and  working  at  the  Dutch  boy's  bonds. 

Every  knot  had  been  drawn  tight  and  hard,  and  Frank 
was  not  aided  in  his  efforts  by  his  eyes.  He  was  obliged 
to  depend  entirely  on  his  sense  of  touch,  which  pre- 
vented him  from  making  as  rapid  progress  as  he  might 
under  other  conditions. 

Still  he  was  not  discouraged — still  he  kept  at  work 
desperately,  hoping  for  success. 

Sometimes  he  would  loosen  a  knot,  and  then  he  might 
get  hold  of  it  wrong  and  tighten  it  again,  all  because 
he  could  not  have  his  eyes  to  assist  him. 

At  length,  however,  he  succeeded  in  getting  Hans  re- 
leased so  the  Dutch  boy  could  set  himself  at  liberty. 


152  Left! 

Hans  sat  up  deliberately,  removed  the  gag  from  his 
mouth,  worked  his  jaws,  and  said: 

"Uf  dot  don'd  peen  a  britty  pad  scrabe,  alretty !" 

He  then  began  to  slowly  and  carefully  untie  the  cords 
which  held  his  feet. 

Frank  was  bursting  with  impatience,  for  every  moment 
was  precious,  and  the  train  was  liable  to  depart  with- 
out them  at  any  time.  He  rolled  up  against  his  com- 
panion, but  the  Dutch  boy  moved  away,  continuing  to 
slowly  work  at  the  knots  which  held  his  feet,  as  he  said : 

"Von  dime  I  didn't  know  but  we  peen  opliged  to  sday 
oudt  mit  dis  blace  all  nighd  in.  Dot  peen  a  pad  scrabe,  eh, 
Vrankie?  You  don'd  like  dot  kindt  uf  a  scrabe?  Vot 
you  t'ink?  You  pelief  dot  gang  vos  roppers,  ain'd  id? 
They  dook  our  guns,  but  I  don't  pelief  they  dook  notting 
else,  do  you?" 

Frank  replied  by  giving  Hans  a  kick  that  nearly 
knocked  him  upon  his  back. 

"Stob  dot!"  squawked  the  Dutch  boy,  moving  still 
farther  away.  "Vot  you  done  dot  I  kick  you  like  dot, 
ain'd  id?" 

"You  blockhead!"  thought  Frank,  furiously.  "The 
train  will  leave  us,  after  all !" 

This  belief  made  Frank  so  angry  that  he  tried  to 
get  near  enough  to  give  Hans  another  kick,  but  the  Dutch 
lad  freed  his  feet  and  sprang  up,  observing : 

"I  don'd  like  dot,  Vrankie.  I  haf  enough  uf  dot  to 
last  me  a  long  dime,  alretty  yet." 

Then  he  stared  down  at  Frank,  seeming  to  realize  for 
the  first  time  that  his  companion  was  still  helpless. 

"Uf  you  keeb  sdill,  I  couldt  undie  dot  robe,  Vrankie." 

Frank  groaned,  and  lay  still. 

Hans  began,  in  the  most  awkward  manner  possible, 
untying  Frank's  feet  first,  and  he  was  very  slow  about  it. 
Just  as  this  task  was  accomplished,  the  engine  whistled 
for  the  third  time,  and  Frank  felt  that  it  was  the  last 
warning. 

Having  set  Frank's  feet  free,  Hans  began  work  on  the 
piece  of  rope  that  held  his  hands.  It  took  him  a  full 
minute  to  get  it  so  the  fuming  lad  could  force  his  bonds. 

Getting  a  hand  clear,  Frank  tore  the  gag  from  his 
mouth,  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  ran  madly  up  the  ravine. 


Left!  153 

To  his  ears  came  the  regular  "puff-puff"  of  an  engine 
starting  a  train. 

Frank  shouted  with  the  full  strength  of  his  voice, 
he  ran  with  all  the  speed  he  could  command,  and  yet  he 
was  certain  he  would  be  too  late. 

Panting,  staggering,  stumbling,  shouting,  he  made  his 
way  from  the  ravine  and  reached  a  point  where  he  could 
see  the  track,  and,  as  he  had  expected,  he  was  in  time  to 
see  the  train  rolling  away  in  the  distance,  with  a  trail 
of  black  smoke  floating  away  above  it,  like  a  pirate  flag. 

"Gone!"  gasped  Frank,  helplessly. 

"Stob!"  roared  the  voice  of  Hans,  as  the  Dutch  lad 
came  puffing  to  the  spot.  "Vot  dot  drain  gone  off  like 
dot  vor,  ain'd  id?" 

"Because  you  were  so  slow !"  cried  Frank,  hotly.  "Be- 
cause you  spent  precious  moments  in  setting  me  free, 
when  you  might  have  hastened.  If  you  had  untied  my 
hands  immediately  on  my  setting  yours  free,  I  could  have 
torn  that  rope  from  my  feet  and  got  out  here  in  time  to 
hold  that  train. 

"Vos  dot  so?" 

"Of  course  it  is !" 

"Und  I  peen  all  to  plame  vor  losin'  dot  drain?" 

"Yes." 

"Vos  dot  so?  Who  vos  id  didn'd  vant  to  go  no  furder 
avay  dot  drain  mit  ?  Who  vos  id  run  down  der  rocks  indo, 
und  vos  caught  virst?  Who  vos  id  brobosed  dis  valkin* 
pusiness  ?" 

"Well,"  confessed  Frank,  "I  presume  we  are  both  to 
blame.  I  led  you  into  the  trap,  and  you  were  too  slow 
to  help  us  out  when  you  had  the  opportunity.  I  won't 
jump  on  you  too  hard,  Hans ;  I'll  give  myself  a  kick  at  the 
same  time." 

"Veil,  vot  we  goin'  to  do  now,  ain'd  id  ?" 

"Walk." 

"Valk?" 

"Yes." 

"Vich  vay?" 

"Toward  Denver." 

"How  far  vos  dot?" 

"Oh,  about  two  hundred  miles  or  more." 

"Shimminy  Gristmasl" 


154 

Hans  came  near  collapsing  in  a  heap  on  the  ground, 
and  he  was  such  a  picture  of  woeful  dismay  that  a  smile 
was  literally  forced  to  Frank's  face. 

"You  don't  like  the  prospect,  Hans?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  mindt  der  brospect ;  id  vos  der  valkin'  vot 
makes  me  tiredt." 

"Well,  it  is  not  particularly  agreeable  to  think  about. 
I  haven't  an  idea  how  far  it  is  to  the  first  railway  sta- 
tion. We  may  not  be  able  to  obtain  anything  to  eat  for 
a  long  time." 

"Vot  made  you  sbeak  apout  dot,  Vrankie?  Id  makes 
me  hongry  to  haf  you  mention  him." 

"If  we  strike  one  of  these  Western  deserts  on  our  way, 
we'll  be  able  to  obtain  luncheon." 

"How?" 

"Why,  just  think  of  the  sand  which  is  there." 

"Sandviches  there?  Oh,  yaw!  I  seen  der  boint  now! 
Yaw !  yaw !  yaw !  Vot  baper  you  read  dot  in,  Vrankie — 
Buck  or  Shudge?" 

"Perhaps  it  was  original." 

"Oritchinal?     I  nefer  seen  dot  baper." 

"Well,  if  we  don't  want  to  sleep  in  the  open  air  to- 
night, we'll  have  to  move.  Come  on ;  we'll  hoof  it  after 
the  train." 

But  just  as  they  started,  a  familiar  voice  called : 

"Hello,  hello,  my  youthful  friends!  whither  away  so 
hastily?" 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MYSTERIOUS     EXPLOSIONS. 

Turning  quickly,  they  beheld  a  long,  lank,  battered, 
tattered,  red-headed  man,  who  was  seated  comfortably  on 
a  stone,  serenely  smoking  a  short-stemmed  "Missouri 
meerschaum." 

This  man  was  Mr.  Harden  Pillsbury— "Hard  Pill,"  the 
tramp. 

Frank  uttered  an  exclamation  of  satisfaction,  and  im- 
mediately approached  the  vagrant,  while  Hans  followed 
doubtfully  at  the  heels  of  his  companion. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  tear  yourselves 
away,"  said  Hard  Pill,  calmly.  "Stop  a  while,  and  let's 
be  sociable.  This  is  my  parlor — all  outdoors.  Sit  down 
on  any  of  the  furniture  that  comes  handy — make  your- 
selves at  home." 

"Thank  you,"  smiled  Frank.  "You  are  very  hospi- 
table." 

"That's  natural — can't  help  it ;  born  that  way.  I'm  one 
of  the  most  generous  beggars  on  two  legs.  I  am  always 
willing  to  give  away  all  I  have.  However,  that  may  not 
be  so  very  strange,  for  I  never  have  anything.  Sit  down. 
Let's  us  have  a  sociable  growl.  Where  are  we  at,  any- 
way? and  how  do  we  happen  to  find  ourselves  here?" 

"We  are  here  because  the  train  went  off  and  left  us," 
exclaimed  Frank,  as  he  sat  down  on  another  stone  near 
that  which  served  Hard  Pill. 

"That  is  exactly  why  I  am  here,"  declared  the  tramp, 
with  a  comical  twist  of  his  face.  "When  I  found  that 
loose  rail,  I  says  to  myself,  says  I,  'Pill,  you've  struck  an 
opportunity — improve  it;  you're  sure  of  a  free  pass  into 
Denver,  and  that's  all  you  want.'  I  considered  it  a  snap. 
My  heart  rejoiced,  and  was  exceedingly  glad.  I  flagged 
the  train  with  this  old  red  handkerchief  of  mine — kept 
the  whole  outfit  from  going  to  eternal  smash.  How  did 
they  thank  me?  Wow!  Wanted  to  lynch  me!  Tried 


156  Mysterious  Explosions. 

to  fill  me  full  of  bullets !  I  had  to  run  for  my  life,  and  the 
way  I  worked  these  long  legs  of  mine  surprised  myself. 
At  one  time  I  did  think  I'd  never  stop  running,  but  I 
got  over  my  scare  after  I'd  covered  about  two  miles,  and 
then  I  sneaked  back.  Didn't  know  but  I  could  manage  to 
get  aboard  the  train  some  way.  Was  too  late.  Train 
had  pulled  out  when  I  got  here.  Just  my  luck.  Never 
mind ;  what  do  you  care  ?" 

"You  are  determined  to  take  things  philosophically,  I 
see." 

"It's  no  good  to  take  things  otherwise,  my  boy.  I've 
knocked  round  the  world  till  I've  had  the  edges  alt 
knocked  off  me.  I  have  about  given  up  looking  for  an 
opportunity.  When  I  strike  anything  by  accident,  it 
turns  out  same  as  this  affair  did  to-day.  But  tell  me  how 
you  happened  to  get  left.  Did  you  wander  so  far  from 
the  train  that  you  could  not  get  back  after  she  began  to 
whistle  a  warning?" 

"We  didn't  go  very  far;  but  we  ran  into  trouble." 

"Urn?    How?" 

Frank  explained,  telling  how  they  had  been  captured 
by  the  masked  men  and  left  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  as 
best  they  could,  how  they  had  succeeded  in  freeing  them- 
selves, but  were  too  late  to  catch  the  train. 

Hard  Pill  whistled. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it's  plain  you  struck  the  fellers  who 
pulled  the  spikes  and  loosened  the  rail.  They're  the 
train-wreckers  who  have  been  operating  in  Colorado,  and 
there's  a  reward  offered  for  their  capture.  If  you'd  cap- 
ture them  all,  you'd  make  a  ten-strike." 

"Veil,"  broke  in  Hans,  "I  don'd  know  how  we  done 
dot,  unless  we  surroundet  dem  verllers." 

"That  would  have  been  the  slickest  way,"  nodded  Hard 
Pill,  soberly.  "Say,  boys,  I've  got  a  grudge  against  them 
fellers.  If  they  hadn't  loosened  that  rail  I  shouldn't 
have  run  into  such  deadly  danger.  They  have  no  right  to 
endanger  the  lives  of  persons  who  may  be  peacefully  me- 
andering along  the  railway.  There  should  be  a  law  for  it. 
When  I  think  it  over  it  makes  me  real  angry.  I  feel  like 
punching  somebody's  head.  I'd  like  to  meet  those  gents. 
Kindly  take  me  to  the  spot  where  they  effected  your 
capture." 


Mysterious  Explosions.  157 

"We  can'd  vaste  der  time,  Vrankie,"  protested  Hans. 
"Uf  we  don'd  ged  a  move  on,  we  don'd  peen  aple  to  valk 
to  Denver  to-nighd  britty  queek  right  avay." 

"You'll  have  to  jig  up  a  lively  jog  if  you  come  any- 
where near  Denver  in  a  week,"  said  Hard  Pill.  "There's 
a  ranch  over  this  way  somewhere,  and  I'm  goin'  to  make 
for  it.  That's  the  place  to  stop  to-night,  and  you'd  better 
come  along." 

Frank  took  a  fancy  to  accompany  Hard  Pill,  although 
he  knew  the  man  might  lead  him  into  serious  dangers. 

Hans  had  to  follow  or  be  left,  and  he  chose  to  follow 
without  further  talk. 

Frank  led  the  way  straight  to  the  spot  where  they 
had  been  captured  by  the  train-wreckers. 

The  tramp  examined  the  ground  with  a  critical  eye, 
asked  several  questions,  and  then  told  the  boys  to  fol- 
low, striking  down  the  ravine  in  the  direction  taken  by 
the  departing  desperadoes. 

Hard  Pill  walked  with  a  long,  swinging  step  that  en- 
abled him  to  cover  ground  at  astonishing  speed,  and  the 
boys  were  forced  to  hustle  to  keep  up  with  him.  For  all 
of  his  speed,  the  man's  footfalls  were  soft  and  catlike, 
and  there  was  something  pantherish  in  his  appearance,  as 
Frank  fancied. 

The  ragged  vagabond  kept  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  and 
he  seemed  to  follow  the  trail  left  by  the  masked  ruffians — 
followed  it  with  the  ease  and  skill  of  an  Indian  trailer. 

He  was  not  inclined  to  talk  much  after  taking  up  the 
trail,  and  the  boys  remained  silent,  paying  attention  to 
the  task  of  keeping  up  with  him. 

Suddenly  a  startling  thing  occurrred.  High  up  in  the 
air,  away  to  the  east,  sounded  a  heavy  explosion. 

The  trio  looked  up  instantly,  but  they  saw  nothing  but 
a  puff  of  bluish  smoke  that  quickly  vanished  into  thin 
air  and  was  gone. 

"Shimminy  Gristmas !"  gurgled  Hans,  in  terror.  "Vot 
vos  dot,  ain'd  id?" 

"It  wasn't  thunder,"  said  Frank. 

"No,  it  was  not,"  agreed  Hard  Pill.  "It  sounded  like 
the  bursting  of  a  bombshell." 

"Maype  dot  peen  id !"  fluttered  the  Dutch  lad.  "Maype 
there  haf  peens  a  vaw  deglared  mit  dis  gountry  on,  und 


158  Mysterious  Explosions. 

dot  vos  a  pombshell  vrom  a  vawship  New  York  Harbor 
in.  You  know  vot  we  read  apoudt  dose  long-range  guns. 
Vrankie?" 

Frank  was  utterly  bewildered,  for  he  could  not  under- 
stand the  cause  of  the  explosion,  if  an  explosion  it  had 
been.  It  was  neither  thunder,  a  cloudburst,  nor  a  cyclone 

"What  do  you  think  it  was,  Mr.  Pillsbury?"  he  asked. 

The  tramp  staggered. 

"Mr.  Pillsbury!"  he  gasped.  "Say,  go  light;  I  have  a 
weak  heart.  You  are  the  first  one  who  has  called  me 
anything  but  Hard  Pill,  or  bum,  or  something  of  that  sort 
in  twenty  years.  Don't  do  it  again !  I  have  delicate 
nerves,  as  well  as  a  weak  heart." 

"All  right,"  laughed  Frank ;  "but  what  do  you  think  it 
was?" 

"You  tell." 

"Can't." 

"Let's  watch  a  while.  Maybe  there'll  be  another.  Keep 
your  eyes  open  in  the  sky." 

"Und  be  reaty  to  dodge  uf  id  comes  dis  vay,"  advised 
Hans. 

They  sat  down  and  watched,  looking  upward  and  about 
them  toward  the  sky. 

They  had  not  watched  thus  a  great  while  when  Frank 
exclaimed : 

"Look  there!    What's  that?" 

He  caught  Hard  Pill  by  the  arm,  and  pointed  away 
toward  the  east,  where  a  black  ball  was  seen  slowly  and 
steadily  rising  into  the  sky. 

"It  looks  like  a  large  toy  balloon,"  said  the  tramp. 

"That's  what  it  does."' 

"Sus-sus-say,"  chattered  the  Dutch  boy,  "were  vos  a 
blace  I  can  grawl  indo  from  ?" 

"Kepp  cool,  Hans,"  advised  Frank.  "Don't  talk; 
watch." 

"Vot  for?" 

"We  want  to  see  whatll  happen." 

"Oxcuse  me !     I  don'cl  peen  anxious  to  seen  dot." 

Higher  and  higher  rose  the  black  ball,  from  which  a 
basket-like  something  was  dangling. 

All  at  once,  the  watching  trio  saw  a  blaze  of  fire,  a 
bursting  puff  of  smoke,  and  the  black  ball  had  disap- 


Mysterious  Explosions.  159 

peared  from  the  sky  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  Directly 
after  this  came  the  sound  of  the  explosion,  which  was 
far  heavier  than  the  first  one. 

Hans  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  mumbled: 

"Dis  vos  der  endt  uf  der  vorld  alretty  come,  I  pet  you 
zwi  dollars !" 

Frank  was  filled  with  wonder,  and  Hard  Pill  seemed 
puzzled  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  mysterious  explo- 
sions. 

"There's  some  kind  of  rascality  behind  this,"  declared 
the  tramp.  "Stay  here.  I'm  going  to  investigate." 

And  then,  for  all  that  Frank  called  to  him,  he  darted 
away,  quickly  disappearing. 

Frank  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  this,  not  being  ready 
to  trust  the  tramp. 

"I  propose  to  do  some  investigating  myself,"  he  said. 
"Follow  me,  Hans." 

"Vere  to?" 

"To  find  out  what  those  explosions  mean." 

"Oh,  dunder  und  blitzen !  don'd  gone  dot  vay,  Vrankie! 
I  don'd  vant  to  done  so !  Uf  I  do,  you  vos  a  deat  man !" 

"Don't  be  foolish — come  along !  We  don't  want  to  stay 
here." 

"I  had  petter  stayed  here  than  gone  ofer  dot  vay.  I 
don'd  feel  so  veil  as  you  might.  Why  don'd  we  gone  back 
to  der  railroat  righd  avay  off  ?" 

After  no  small  amount  of  trouble,  Frank  succeeded  in 
inducing  the  Dutch  lad  to  follow  him,  and  he  struck  out 
toward  the  point  from  which  the  balloon,  or  whatever 
it  was,  had  seemed  to  ascend. 

For  more  than  thirty  minutes  they  hurried  forward  at  a 
brisk  pace,  and  during  that  time  there  were  no  explosions. 

Frank  had  begun  to  wonder  if  there  was  a  chance 
of  finding  the  spot  from  which  the  balloons  rose,  when,  all 
at  once,  a  huge  round  ball  shot  up  into  the  air  just  ahead 
of  them. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE      EXPERIMENTER. 

Hans  uttered  a  gasp  of  dismay,  and  fell  to  the  ground, 
gurgling : 

"Dunder  und  blitzen !  you  vas  a  goner !" 

Three  long  strides  brought  Frank  to  a  point  where  he 
could  look  out  into  a  bit  of  open  land,  and  there  he  saw 
a  wagon,  a  horse,  and  a  man.  The  latter  was  paying  out 
a  line  attached  to  the  balloon,  for  such  the  round  ball  was, 
as  Frank  had  believed. 

"What's  he  doing?"  thought  the  wondering  boy.  "This 
beats  my  time !  Is  he  crazy  ?  Hear  him  mutter !" 

The  stranger  was  roughly  dressed,  and  wore  a  full  black 
beard.  His  hat  lay  on  the  ground,  so  that  it's  wide  brim 
might  not  obstruct  his  view  of  the  balloon.  He  was  mut- 
tering and  mumbling  as  the  balloon  ascended. 

Hans  crept  up  behind  Frank,  past  whom  he  peered  at 
the  man,  his  teeth  chattering. 

"Led's  get  avay  oudt  uf  this,  Vrankie !"  he  whispered. 
"Uf  we  don'd,  you  vos  a  deadt  boy !" 

"Keep  still,"  ordered  Frank.     "Look — watch — wait!" 

"Vait!  Vait  for  vat?  To  peen  blowed  to  kinkdom 
gone  ?" 

Before  long  the  end  of  the  line  was  nearly  reached. 
It  ran  into  the  wagon,  toward  which  the  man  sprang.  He 
did  something,  and  then  there  was  another  explosion, 
far  up  in  the  air.  The  balloon  was  blown  to  a  thousand 
fragments. 

Hans  tumbled  over  backward,  and  lay  groaning  on  the 
ground. 

All  at  once,  Frank  dropped  beside  the  Dutch  lad,  over 
whose  mouth  a  hand  was  clasped,  while  Merriwell  softly 
panted : 

"Keep  still !  Here  are  the  masked  train-wreckers ! 
They're  coming  to  investigate.  If  they  find  us — well, 
we  may  not  get  off  as  easy  as  we  did  the  other  time.'' 


The  Experimenter.  161 

Hans  sat  up.  Some  bowlders  concealed  the  two  lads 
from  the  view  of  any  one  within  the  opening.  Peering 
forth,  they  saw  the  masked  men  surround  the  wagon, 
the  horse,  and  the  author  of  the  mysterious  explosions. 
The  leader  of  the  gang  confronted  the  man,  and  de- 
manded : 

"What  does  this  mean?  Explain  it!  What  are  you 
exploding  away  up  there  in  the  air?" 

"Dynamite,  giant  powder,  anything  to  make  a  thunder- 
ing noise,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  why  are  you  doing  that?  Are  those  explosions 
signals  ?" 

"You  bet!" 

"Of  what?" 

"Moisture." 

The  masked  men  muttered.  They  seemed  mystified  and 
bewildered ;  but  they  were  no  more  bewildered  than  were 
the  two  lads  peering  from  behind  the  bowlders. 

"He's  crazy!"  sibilated  Frank. 

"As  a  pedbug!"  whispered  Hans. 

Some  of  the  men  spoke  with  one  another  in  asides. 
They  fell  into  groups  about  the  stranger,  who  seemed 
serene  and  unconcerned,  for  all  of  their  presence. 

In  a  few  moments  the  leader  asked: 

"What  do  you  mean  by  such  a  reply?  What  do  you 
mean  by  saying  those  explosions  mean  moisture?" 

"Just  what  I  said,"  was  the  sharp  reply.  "What  do 
you  mean  by  coming  round  and  bothering  me.  I  haven't 
time  to  waste  with  you.  You  are  retarding  the  advance 
of  science — you  are  making  yourself  very  obnoxious.  I 
wish  you  would  go  away." 

"That's  nerve,"  thought  Frank  Merriwell.  "That  is  a 
first-class  bluff." 

The  leader  of  the  masked  men  was  somewhat  angered. 
His  hand  fell  on  the  shoulder  of  the  black-bearded  indi- 
vidual, and  he  growled: 

"You  had  better  be  a  little  more  respectful,  my  man! 
We  are  not  to  be  trifled  with." 

"So?" 

"You  will  find  it  so.  Now,  you  talk  straight,  or  we 
may  take  a  fancy  to  fill  you  full  of  holes.  I  want  you  to- 
answer  some  questions." 


1 62  The  Experimenter. 

"Fire  away." 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"Making  rain." 

"What's  that?" 

"It  is  condensed  vapor  precipitated  from  the  clouds." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say — you  can't  mean  that " 

"My  dear  sir,  that  is  exactly  what  I  mean.  It  has  been 
demonstrated  that  clouds  gather  after  heavy  battles  and 
rain  falls.  It  is  believed  that  this  is  brought  about  by 
heavy  concussions.  I  am  experimenting.  I  am  attempt- 
ing to  kick  up  a  shower.  This  wagon  is  loaded  with  giant 
powder  and  dynamite.  I  have  a  number  of  balloons,  and 
I  make  my  gas  with  this  small  charcoal  stove.  I  have 
been  sending  up  balloons  and  exploding  them  with  elec- 
tricity, the  battery  to  generate  which  is  also  here  in  the 
wagon.  That  is  a  full  and  complete  explanation,  and  I 
hope  you  are  satisfied." 

The  masked  men  looked  at  each  other.  They  seemed 
hesitating  and  doubtful.  One  of  them  went  to  pawing 
around  the  wagon,  and  the  stranger  immediately  cried: 

"Better  let  that  alone,  if  you  don't  want  to  blow  us  all 
sky-high!  It's  dynamite!" 

The  man  fell  back  precipitately ;  all  seemed  alarmed. 

"You  don't  think  you  can  bring  on  a  rainstorm  now, 
do  you?"  asked  the  leader  of  the  masks.  "This  is  the 
wrong  season  of  the  year." 

"So  much  the  better.  The  dryer  the  atmosphere  the  bet- 
ter I  am  pleased.  If  I  succeed,  my  triumph  will  be  all 
the  greater.  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me  whether 
I  bring  on  a  rainstorm  or  a  snowstorm.  Either  will  show 
me  my  experiment  is  successful.  The  name  of  Prof. 
Turner  Side  will  be  spread  broadcast  throughout  the 
land.  I  shall  become  famous." 

"Hank,"  said  the  leader,  addressing  the  big  fellow, 
"come  out  here.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

They  drew  aside,  put  their  heads  close  together,  and 
spoke  in  low  tones.  Turner  Side  knew  they  were  speak- 
ing of  him,  but  he  seemed  cool  and  unconcerned.  They 
did  not  worry  him  in  the  least. 

Some  moments  passed.  Plainly  the  men  were  doubt- 
ful. The  leader  turned  to  the  rainmaker  once  more. 


The  Experimenter.  163 

"How  did  you  happen  to  select  this  spot  on  which 
to  carry  on  your  experiments  ?"  he  asked. 

"How  did  I  ?  Give  it  up.  Wanted  to  get  away  where 
I  should  not  be  seen.  Didn't  care  to  let  everybody  know 
all  about  it  if  I  failed  in  my  efforts.  Left  the  train  at 
Wild  Horse.  Hired  this  wagon  and  beast  and  came  here. 
That's  all." 

"You  may  be  telling  the  truth,  but " 

"I  am  a  peaceable  man,  but  I  shall  feel  it  my  duty  to 
thump  you  real  hard  if  you  call  me  a  liar." 

"Then  I  won't  call  you  that;  but  you'll  be  watched,  and, 
if  it  turns  out  that  you  have  lied — well,  it  will  be  very 
unfortunate  for  you." 

"All  right;  let  it  go  at  that.  I  don't  care.  I'll  move 
into  the  next  county.  Don't  fancy  being  watched.  Some- 
body might  steal  my  secret  and  go  into  the  rainmaking 
business." 

"You  do  not  seem  to  have  brought  down  much  rain 
around  here." 

"I  had  just  begun." 

"So?    Well,  go  on.    Come,  boys." 

The  leader  moved  away,  and  his  men  followed.  Turner 
Side  watched  them  till  all  had  disappeared  from  view, 
and  then  he  turned  to  his  wagon,  muttering : 

"Too  bad!  Broke  me  off  right  in  the  middle  of  my 
experiments.  Let  it  go.  Won't  try  it  any  more  to-day. 
I'll  strike  for  the  ranch  I  saw  away  to  the  northeast." 

He  began  making  preparations  to  hitch  the  horse,  a 
scrawny,  razor-backed  beast,  into  the  thills. 

A  sudden  impulse  seized  Frank  and  he  sprang  to  his 
feet,  walking  boldly  toward  the  would-be  rainmaker. 

The  man  looked  up  and  saw  the  lad  approaching. 

"Hello!"  he  exclaimed.  "More  visitors.  Well,  well! 
I  didn't  suppose  there  were  so  many  people  within  a  hun- 
dred miles." 

Frank  spoke. 

"With  a  friend,  I  happened  to  overhear  your  conversa- 
tion with  those  masked  men.  We  also  heard  you  say  you 
intended  striking  out  for  a  nearby  ranch." 

"Oh,  it  is  not  so  near.  It  is  at  least  fifteen  or  twenty 
miles  away.  Saw  it  from  an  elevation.  Have  good  eyes 
in  my  head.  It's  a  cattle  ranch,  for  I  could  see  the  herds. 


1 64  The  Experimenter. 

Must  be  a  barbed-wire  ranch.  Thought  I  might  stop  to- 
night." 

"Just  so.  Now,  my  friend  and  myself  have  been  left 
here — stranded.  We've  got  to  stop  somewhere  to-night. 
What  say  if  we  go  along  with  you?  We'll  pay." 

"Come  along.  There  won't  be  any  trouble  about  pay. 
We'll  travel  along  together." 

Frank  went  back  and  spoke  to  Hans,  but  it  was  some 
time  before  the  Dutch  lad  could  be  induced  to  trust  him- 
self with  the  rainmaker.  He  felt  sure  the  man  was  crazy. 

By  the  time  Hans'  fears  were  overcome  Turner  Side 
had  gathered  up  everything  and  hitched  the  old  horse  into 
the  thills  of  the  wagon. 

"Come  on,  boys,"  he  called,  as  the  lads  slowly  ap- 
proached. "We  ain't  got  time  to  waste  if  we  want  to 
strike  that  ranch  to-night.  This  fiery,  untamed  steed 
may  feel  inclined  to  loiter  on  the  way." 

Frank  thought  of  Hard  Pill.  He  did  not  want  to 
abandon  the  vagrant,  and  he  vaguely  wondered  where 
the  tramp  could  be. 

"What's  it  best  to  do?"  he  asked  himself. 

The  answer  came  quickly. 

"Hard  Pill  can  take  care  of  himself,  and  we'll  look  out 
for  ourselves." 

The  boys  climbed  on  the  wagon,  and  Mr.  Side  whipped 
up  the  old  horse. 

"Never  saw  such  a  country,"  he  grumbled.  "Looks  de- 
serted, but  a  little  noise  seems  to  bring  men  and  boys 
out  of  the  ground." 

He  found  a  road  out  of  the  opening.  In  about  half 
an  hour  they  left  the  broken  ground  and  struck  the 
great  plain.  The  strange  man  did  not  seem  to  hesitate 
about  the  direction  they  should  pursue.  He  selected  the 
course,  and  the  wagon  went  creaking  and  complaining 
across  the  brown  expanse. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  STAMPEDE. 

Having  left  the  broken  country  near  the  railroad,  it  was 
not  long  before  they  came  to  a  barbed-wire  fence.  Still 
there  was  no  ranch  building  to  be  seen,  nor  yet  any  graz- 
ing herds  in  view. 

The  rainmaker  explained  that  the  fence  might  inclose  a 
"grazing  range"  hundreds  of  miles  square,  the  property 
of  several  large  cattle  raisers,  who  thus  kept  their  herds 
from  the  railroad,  but  allowed  them  to  mingle  freely,  each 
owner  distinguishing  his  cattle  by  the  brand,  as  of  old,  be- 
fore the  time  of  barbed-wire  fences. 

"This  fence  stops  us,"  said  Frank.  "How  are  we  going 
on?" 

"Dot's  vot  I'd  like  to  know,"  spoke  up  Hans. 

"I  go  prepared  for  such  emergencies,"  replied  the  man, 
as  he  fumbled  beneath  the  wagon  seat  and  brought  out 
some  strong  cutnippers.  "We'll  soon  make  an  opening." 

"But — but  have  you  a  right  to  cut  the  fence?" 

"I'll  take  the  right." 

Down  from  the  wagon  sprang  the  strange  man.  Snap, 
snap,  he  clipped  two  strands.  Then  he  swung  them  aside, 
and  told  Frank  to  drive  through. 

When  the  wagon  had  passed  beyond  the  fence,  Turner 
Side  tossed  the  nippers  back  beneath  the  seat,  brought  out 
some  pieces  of  wire,  and  swiftly  mended  the  out  strands, 
so  the  fence  was  unbroken  once  more. 

"That  is  what  I  call  handiness !"  laughed  Frank.  "You 
must  have  known  what  you  were  liable  to  run  across  out 
here." 

"Oh,  I  know  something  about  barbed-wire  fences.  If 
a  fellow  runs  on  one  of  them  without  having  nippers  in 
his  possession,  he  is  liable  to  travel  a  hundred  miles  round 
to  get  ten  miles  across." 

"Don't  the  ranchers  ever  kick  about  having  the  fence 
cut?" 


1 66  The  Stampede. 

"Not  if  they  know  you  mend  it  so  it  is  good  as  ever. 
If  you  cut  it  and  left  it,  you'd  stand  a  first-class  show  of 
getting  shot." 

They  drove  on.  The  old  horse  was  lame,  and  the  boys 
walked  beside  the  wagon  much  of  the  way.  In  fact,  Hans 
preferred  to  walk  all  of  the  time,  as  he  was  afraid  of  the 
explosives  which  the  wagon  contained. 

Frank  asked  Mr.  Side  many  questions  about  rainmak- 
ing,  and  the  man  endeavored  to  explain  his  theory  of  pro- 
ducing showers  by  means  of  heavy  explosions.  He  used 
so  many  large  words  and  scientific  terms  that  his  explana- 
tions were  rather  vague  and  foggy  to  the  boys,  and  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  thoroughly  understood  what  he  was  talk- 
ing about  himself. 

After  a  while,  the  rainmaker  fell  to  questioning  the 
boys,  and  Frank  told  how  they  came  to  be  left  by  the 
Overland  Flyer. 

"Those  gentlemen  who  wear  masks,"  observed  Mr. 
Side,  "may  be  very  dangerous  customers.  All  I  want  of 
them  is  to  let  me  alone." 

"Something  ought  to  be  done  to  break  up  the  dastardly 
band !"  cried  Frank,  hotly.  "Just  think  of  a  body  of  men 
banded  together  to  wreck  trains  and  rob  the  dead  and 
dying  passengers  !  It  is  horrible !" 

"It  is  rather  unpleasant  to  think  of,"  acknowledged 
the  man.  "They  are  desperate  fellows." 

"They  are  inhuman  monsters !  They  should  be  hanged, 
every  one  of  them !" 

"I  think  you  are  right,  but  I  would  not  be  too  free  in 
expressing  my  views  on  that  point ;  you  don't  know  who 
may  be  in  sympathy  with  them  around  these  parts." 

"I  am  sure  you  are  not." 

"You  are  safe  on  that  point,  but  there  are  others.  Heed 
my  warning;  keep  still  about  the  train-wreckers." 

"I'd  like  to  be  able  to  turn  the  whole  gang  over  to  the 
law." 

"A  very  commendable  desire;  but  it  is  not  at  all  likely 
you  will  be  able  to  do  anything  of  the  sort." 

"I'd  lik«  to  know  vot  pecome  uf  dot  Hardt  Bill,"  said 
Hans. 

"That  fellow  is  a  mystery,"  declared  Frank.    "If  he  had 


The  Stampede.  167 

not  stopped  the  train,  and  thus  saved  it  from  being 
wrecked,  I  should  believe  him  one  of  the  gang." 

"He  may  be,"  said  Turner  Side.  "That  piece  of  bus- 
iness may  have  been  some  part  of  a  scheme  that  failed  to 
work.  Who  knows?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  is  anything  but  a  wretched  tramp 
who  stumbled  along  the  track  just  in  time  to  discover  the 
loose  rail  before  the  flyer  came  along." 

"Veil,"  said  Hans,  "I  don'd  know  vat  he  peen,  but  I'd 
like  to  know  ver  he  vent  to  alretty  queek  right  avay  ven 
he  left  -us." 

"I  shall  not  worry  about  him,"  laughed  Frank.  "He'll 
take  care  of  himself." 

It  was  a  clear  autumn  day,  and  now,  far  to  the  west- 
ward, a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away,  they  could  see  the 
bluish  ridge  of  the  Rockies,  with  Pike's  Peak  looming 
blue  and  white  amid  the  range.  It  did  not  seem  possible 
that  the  mountains  were  so  far  away,  but  Turner  Side 
assured  them  that  it  was  all  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
to  the  base  of  Pike's  Peak. 

The  plains  were  brown,  the  grass  having  been  baked 
into  fairly  good  hay  by  the  summer's  heat  and  sunshine. 

The  old  horse  plodded  steadily  on,  mile  after  mile,  and 
yet  the  ranch  they  were  seeking  did  not  come  into  view. 

Finally  the  trio  heard  a  faint,  rumbling  sound  that 
seemed  to  come  up  out  of  the  very  earth. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Frank,  in  surprise. 

"Dunder,"  suggested  Hans. 

Turner  Side  stopped  the  team  and  listened. 

With  each  passing  moment  the  sound  grew  louder  and 
louder,  swelling  steadily  and  ominously. 

"Look  out  for  squalls,"  said  the  man.  "If  that  isn't  a 
cyclone,  the  chances  are  it  is  something  fully  as  bad." 

Frank's  eyes  swept  the  horizon,  and  a  cry  broke  from 
his  lips. 

"Look — away  to  the  west!     What  is  that?" 

They  looked  in  the  direction  he  was  pointing,  and  the 
plain  seemed  covered  with  a  dense  moving  mass  that 
drew  nearer  and  was  more  plainly  seen  with  each  moment. 

"Vot  is  id?"  gasped  Hans. 

"A  stampede,  by  the  eternal  skies!"  shouted  Turner 


1 68  The  Stampede. 

Side.  "That  is  a  great  drove  of  cattle,  and  it  is  headed 
this  way!" 

"Then  we're  in  danger?" 

"I  should  say  so.  If  we  do  not  get  out  of  the  way, 
we'll  be  run  over  by  those  mad  animals — trampled  to 
death — exterminated !" 

"Our  only  hope  is  to  get  out  of  their  course!"  came 
from  Frank.  "We  must  let  them  pass." 

"Right  you  are,"  agreed  Turner.  "We  must  keep 
straight  ahead." 

Then  he  lashed  the  old  horse  with  the  rawhide  whip, 
and  they  were  soon  rattling  along  as  swiftly  as  the  crea- 
ture could  carry  them. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  great  drove  of  mad  cat- 
tle, spreading  out  against  the  horizon  line,  in  a  man- 
ner that  made  Frank's  heart  sink  within  him. 

"We  can't  escape!" 

"It  doesn't  look  like  it,"  confessed  the  man,  whose 
face  was  very  pale.  "The  old  horse  is  doing  his  best 
now." 

"It  is  a  singular  thing  that  this  stampede  should  come 
in  our  direction  just  now." 

"It  is  rather  remarkable." 

"Maype  they  vill  durn  oudt  vor  us,"  fluttered  Hans. 

"Never,"  declared  the  rainmaker.  "We'll  be  swept 
away  like  so  much  chaff!  If  we  can't  get  out  of  their 
way,  we  are  done  for." 

It  was  not  long  before  it  became  evident  that  such  a 
thing  was  impossible.  The  old  horse  was  doing  his  best, 
still  Turner  plied  the  whip.  Finally  the  horse  stumbled 
and  went  down  in  a  heap,  throwing  the  trio  from  the 
wagon. 

It  had  been  a  wild  ride,  for  they  had  not  known  at  what 
moment  the  jolting  of  the  wagon  might  cause  some  of  the 
dynamite  to  explode,  so  they  would  all  be  blown  to  pieces ; 
but  the  ride  was  ended  now,  and  they  were  still  in  the 
road  of  the  oncoming  herd. 

"Done  for!"  palpitated  Frank,  struggling  to  his  feet. 
"The  old  horse  has  broken  a  leg !  There  is  no  escape  now." 

"You  are  right,"  confessed  Turner  Side.  "We  cannot 
escape  them  on  foot!" 

The  rumbling  sound  had  increased  to  a  dull  roaring, 


The  Stampede.  169 

and  the  ground  quivered  beneath  the  tread  of  hundreds 
of  hoofed  feet.  With  clashing  horns,  fiery  eyes,  bellow- 
ing madly,  the  furious  herd  rushed  down  upon  the  un- 
lucky trio. 

At  times  a  steer  would  fall,  others  would  go  whirling 
over  him,  still  others  would  pile  upon  them,  and  then  the 
ones  that  were  down  would  be  crushed  and  trodden  into 
the  very  ground,  and  the  herd  flew  on. 

"See !"  shouted  Frank.  "There  are  men  behind  them— 
masked  men,  with  whips  and  revolvers  !  They  have  stam- 
peded the  cattle !  They  are  driving  the  herd  in  this  direc- 
tion r 

"Right!"  cried  the  rainmaker.  "Those  are  the  train- 
wreckers  !  They  have  stampeded  the  herd  in  this  direc- 
tion! It  is  a  trick — a  scheme  to  kill  us  all — to  wipe 
us  off  the  face  of  the  earth !" 

The  horsemen  who  were  urging  the  frightened  cattle  on 
with  whips  and  firearms  could  be  plainly  seen.  They  were 
lashing  the  tailenders  of  the  herd,  they  were  yelling  and 
shooting  into  the  air,  and  they  were  directing  the  herd 
toward  the  stranded  wagon ! 

Frank  was  furious. 

vThis  is  murder !"  he  grated.  "Those  men  believe  we 
know  too  much.  It  is  their  plot  to  put  us  out  of  the  way, 
and  it  will  seem  that  we  were  killed  by  accident !" 

He  longed  for  some  means  of  defending  himself,  but 
there  seemed  none.  Hans  was  lying  stunned  on  the 
ground,  and  Frank  would  not  have  deserted  the  Dutch 
lad,  even  though  he  could  have  saved  his  own  life  by  doing 
so. 

"Wait!"  screamed  the  rainmaker.  "It's  our  only 
chance — it's  a  bare  hope!" 

Frank  did  not  know  what  the  man  meant.  He  saw 
Turner  Side  grab  something  from  the  wagon,  saw  him 
run  straight  toward  the  oncoming  herd.  It  seemed  that 
the  man  was  rushing  headlong  to  his  death,  and  Frank 
watched  with  baited  breath. 

In  his  hands  Turner  carried  a  can — two  cans.  What 
did  he  mean  to  do  with  them?  How  could  he  hope  to 
check  or  turn  the  mad  herd? 

"He's  crazy!"  muttered  the  boy.  "He  has  gone  mad  I 
All  of  us  are  lost !" 


XXXVI. 

SPLITTING      THE      HERD. 

The  hoofbeats  of  the  mad  herd  made  the  ground  trem- 
ble like  the  jarring  of  a  distant  earthquake,  and  rilled  the 
air  with  a  sound  similar  to  the  steady  roll  of  thunder — 
the  pouring  of  a  Niagara. 

Above  the  herd  rose  a  cloud  of  dust,  beyond  wh*e*i  oc- 
casional glimpses  of  mounted  men  could  be  seen.  Tney 
were  wielding  whips  and  yelling  madly,  but  not  a  sound 
of  their  cries  came  to  the  ears  of  the  unlucky  trio  in  the 
track  of  the  stampede.  Through  this  dust  cloud  flashes 
of  fire  were  seen  now  and  then,  plainly  telling  that  the 
men  were  urging  the  cattle  onward  by  firing  their  rifles 
and  revolvers. 

Frank  shuddered  and  stood  fascinated,  spellbound,  in- 
capable of  action. 

Still  the  rainmaker  ran  straight  toward  the  herd,  the 
sunlight  glistening  cok?ly  on  the  tin  of  the  two  cans  he 
carried. 

"He  has  gone  mad !"  repeated  Frank.  "He  fancies  he 
can  frighten  the  cattle  some  way  by  running  to  meet  them. 
There  is  no  hope  for  any  of  us.  It  is  doubtful  if  the 
world  ever  knows  how  we  died,  for  we  shall  be  blotted  out 
of  existence.  Professor  Scotch  will  search  for  us  in  vain." 

And  now  terror  no  longer  dominated  him,  but  a  sort  of 
stupor  came  upon  him,  and  he  stood  there,  calmly  await- 
ing death  beneath  the  crushing  hoofs  of  the  wild  cattle. 
Most  persons  become  calm  when  they  know  death  is  right 
at  hand  and  cannot  be  avoided;  thus  with  Frank  Merri- 
well.  He  knew  there  could  be  little  suffering;  he  would 
go  down  beneath  the  feet  of  the  foremost  steers,  and  it 
would  be  all  over  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  He  could 
feel  no  more  than  a  shock ;  he  doubted  if  he  would  experi- 
ence pain. 

Suddenly  his  eyes  turned  from  the  herd  to  the  rain- 
maker, The  man  had  stopped — he  was  carefully  placing 


Splitting  the  Herd.  171 

the  cans  on  the  ground  at  some  distance  from  each 
other — he  was  coming  back  toward  the  wagon  as  fast  a* 
his  legs  would  carry  him. 

Still  Frank  wondered.  What  did  it  mean  ?  How  could 
those  innocent-looking  cans  check  or  turn  the  stampeded 
cattle  ? 

As  he  ran  toward  the  wagon,  the  man  wildly  motioned 
to  the  boy,  but  Frank  did  not  understand,  the  meaning 
of  his  signals.  He  saw  Turner  Side  open  his  mouth,  he 
knew  Turner  was  shrieking  some  words,  but  every  other 
sound  was  drowned  in  the  thunder  roar  of  the  stampede. 

The  earth  seemed  to  quake  with  terror  beneath  the 
feet  of  the  boy  who  stood  beside  the  wagon  so  calmly  re- 
garding advancing  doom.  He  could  see  the  fiery  eyes  of 
the  mad  steers,  could  see  the  dust  blown  from  their  nos- 
trils like  smoke,  could  see  their  horns  glinting  like  bris- 
tling bayonets  in  the  sunlight. 

The  van  of  the  herd  were  close  upon  the  cans — had 
reached  them,  and  then 

It  seemed  that  the  earth  upheaved  to  the  sky,  and  the 
very  heavens  were  rent  asunder.  There  was  such  a  roar 
as  might  come  from  the  mouths  of  a  hundred  cannon. 
Frank  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  black  mass  of  earth  and 
cattle  flung  far  into  the  air,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
shock  hurled  him  prostrate  and  stunned  upon  the  ground. 

Dazed  though  he  was,  Frank  understood  what  had 
happened,  and  he  gasped : 

"Nitro-glycerine — dynamite — something  of  the  sort! 
That's  what  the  cans  contained !  The  hoofs  of  the  cattle 
exploded  it!" 

Deafened  and  dazed,  he  lifted  himself  on  one  elbow 
and  looked  toward  the  spot  where  the  explosion  had  taken 
place.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  the  rainmaker,  who  had 
also  been  flung  to  the  ground,  sit  up  and  look  toward  the 
herd. 

Where  the  cans  had  been  there  was  a  great  hole  in 
the  ground.  Scores  of  torn  and  mangled  steers  had 
been  hurled  in  every  direction  from  that  spot.  The  herd 
was  split — it  was  swinging  to  the  right  and  left — they 
were  saved ! 

Saved?  Yes,  if  the  herd  did  not  unite  again,  they  were 
saved.  That  great  opening  in  the  ground  yawned  di- 


172  Splitting  the  Herd. 

rectly  in  the  path  of  the  stampeded  cattle,  and  the  leaders 
had  been  frightened  into  dividing.  Having  divided,  it 
was  doubtful  if  they  would  unite  again. 

Turner  Side  got  upon  his  feet  and  ran  toward  the 
wagon.  Frank  struggled  up,  and  found  Hans  sitting  with 
his  back  against  a  wheel,  staring,  shivering,  quaking.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  shock  of  the  explosion  had  aroused  him 
from  his  stunned  condition. 

And  the  horse — the  old  horse  was  getting  on  his  feet ! 
The  creature's  leg  had  not  been  broken  after  all ! 

"Hurrah !"  screamed  Frank.    "We're  all  right !" 

The  rainmaker  came  rushing  up.  He  leaped  upon  the 
wagon,  caught  up  a  rifle,  brought  the  butt  to  his  shoulder. 
And  then,  standing  thus,  he  worked  the  repeater  so 
swiftly  that  a  steady  stream  of  fire  and  smoke  seemed  to 
pour  from  its  muzzle. 

He  was  shooting  over  the  herd — he  was  trying  to  reach 
some  of  the  masked  horsemen ! 

"Give  it  to  'em !"  shouted  Frank,  in  savage  joy.  "They 
tried  to  kill  us !  Salt  some  of  them,  if  you  can !" 

The  man  could  not  have  heard  a  word,  but  he  did  not 
need  such  advice.  He  was  thoroughly  aroused,  and 
the  wondering  boy  admired  him  at  that  moment. 

To  the  right  and  left  rolled  the  cattle,  to  the  right  and 
left  swept  the  mounted  men,  and  they  took  good  care  to 
keep  beyond  ordinary  rifle  shot. 

The  cloud  of  dust  closed  in  and  covered  the  wagon 
nnd  the  human  beings  near  it  like  a  pall.  For  some  min- 
utes the  stampeded  cattle  continued  to  thunder  past.  At 
length  they  swept  on,  and  the  danger  was  over.  The 
masked  horsemen  were  seen  departing  with  the  cattle. 

The  rainmaker  refilled  the  magazine  of  his  rifle  with 
cartridges.  Then  he  sprang  to  the  ground  and  proceeded 
to  examine  the  horse.  He  lifted  the  animal's  feet,  he  felt 
of  its  legs,  he  nodded  with  satisfaction. 

"Dead  lucky!"  he  said  aloud.  "Leg  wasn't  broken, 
after  all.  Critter's  all  right.  We'll  make  the  ranch,  and 
our  colors  will  be  flying.  It's  rather  hard  work  to  down 
Turner  Side." 

Frank  hurried  to  the  strange  man,  grasped  his  hand, 
and  shook  it  with  great  heartiness. 


Splitting  the  Herd.  173 

"You're  a  dandy,  Mr.  Side!"  cried  the  boy.  "That 
was  a  great  trick !  It  saved  our  lives !" 

"Without  a  doubt,  young  man.  So  it  seems  that  my 
stock  is  good  for  something,  if  I  have  not  been  able  to 
kick  up  a  rainstorm  with  it." 

"I  couldn't  imagine  what  you  were  doing;  I  thought 
you  had  gone  crazy.  My  wits  must  have  been  dulled 
just  then." 

"Veil,"  said  the  Dutch  lad,  who  had  gathered  himself 
up  from  the  ground,  "don'd  you  peen  surbrised  at  dot, 
Vrankie ;  mem  vits  vas  fulled  a  leedle  bit,  you  pet  me  my 
life!" 

Those  fellows  who  stampeded  the  herd  didn't  seem  to 
care  about  getting  too  near  us,"  chuckled  Turner.  "They 
sheered  off  beyond  good  rifle  shot." 

"I  don't  wonder,"  laughed  Frank.  "That  explosion 
must  have  given  them  a  shock.  They  didn't  know  but 
there'd  be  another." 

"I'd  like  to  get  a  can  of  that  stuff  under  them !"  cried 
the  rainmaker.  "They  wouldn't  wreck  any  more  trains." 

The  divided  herd  was  rolling  on  to  the  east  in  two  sec- 
tions, the  thunder  of  their  hoofs  sounding  fainter  and 
fainter  with  each  moment. 

No  longer  were  the  cattle  pursued  by  the  masked 
horsemen.  The  two  parties  had  united,  and  they  were  rid- 
ing away  to  the  north. 

"That  shows  they  intended  to  destroy  us  with  the  cat- 
tle," said  Turner.  "Having  failed,  they  follow  the  crea- 
tures no  farther." 

"The  dastardly  wretches!" 

"Well,  we  won't  let  'em  worry  us  any  more  to-day. 
Come  on,  old  horse ;  let's  see  if  you  are  able  to  draw  this 
load." 

The  horse  was  still  quivering  with  the  fear  that  had 
made  it  stand  still  after  getting  on  its  feet;  but  the  ani- 
mal started  at  the  word,  and  the  wagon  rolled  on  once 
more. 

Man  and  boys  walked.  They  could  have  crawled  and 
been  thankful. 

In  time  the  herd  and  the  horsemen  had  disappeared. 

There  was  enough  to  talk  about  as  they  pressed  for* 


174  Splitting  the  Herd. 

ward.  Such  an  adventure  could  provide  material  for 
any  amount  of  discussion. 

After  a  while,  however,  Turner  Side  grew  taciturn  and 
moody.  He  ceased  to  take  any  part  in  the  conversation 
unless  questioned,  and  then  he  answered  curtly.  He 
seemed  to  be  thinking,  speculating,  planning. 

In  time  they  came  in  view  of  some  ranch  buildings, 
toward  which  they  headed  direct.  The  buildings  did 
not  seem  many  miles  away,  but  the  sun  was  well  down 
toward  the  distant  peaks  of  the  Rockies,  and  the  after- 
noon was  far  spent  before  they  came  near  the  ranch- 
house  and  corrals. 

Fierce  dogs  barked  and  ran  out  toward  them,  some 
men  came  round  one  of  the  corrals,  and  another  man 
whistled  to  the  dogs  from  the  broad  veranda  of  the 
house. 

Hans  quickly  climbed  on  the  wagon  to  get  away  from 
the  dogs,  but  the  creatures  responded  to  the  shrill  whistle 
of  the  man  on  the  veranda,  and  quickly  turned  back. 
He  drove  them  away  to  one  of  the  stables,  and  then  came 
forward  to  meet  the  boys  and  the  rainmaker. 

He  was  dressed  roughly,  but  was  smoking  a  fragrant 
cigar.  His  mustache  and  imperial  were  coal  black,  as  also 
were  his  piercing  eyes. 

"Hello,  strangers  !"  he  bluffly  called.  "  Whar  away  ?  an' 
whar  from?" 

"I,  sir,"  explained  the  rainmaker,  "am  Prof.  Turner 
•  Side,  experimentalist.  I  have  come  out  to  these  parts 
to  conduct  a  few  experiments  with  the  atmosphere." 

"Wa-al,  I'm  right  glad  to  see  yer,  professor.  Give  us 
yer  paw.  My  name's  Robinson — Lije  Robinson — an'  this 
yars'  my  ranch.  Ye're  welcome  to  stay  hyar  just  as  long 
as  yer  want  to,  an'  don't  yer  fergit  it." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Robinson;  you  are  a  gentleman — a 
thorough  gentleman.  We'll  gladly  accept  your  hospital- 
ity. Permit  me  to  introduce  my  companions.  Mr.  Robin- 
son, this  is  Frank  Merriwell;  and  this  is  Hans  Dunner- 
wust.  These  young  gentlemen  were  dropped  from  the 
Overland  Flyer." 

"Dropped?"  questioned  Robinson,  with  a  puzzled  ex- 
pression on  his  face  as  he  shook  hands  with  the  boys. 
"How  dropped?" 


Splitting  the  Herd.  175 

Frank  explained,  and  the  rancher  whistled. 

"So  the  train-wreckers  are  at  it  again,  and  they're  near 
us,  eh?  Wa-al,  I  like  that  thar — dern  my  hoofs  if  I 
don't!" 

The  way  he  uttered  the  words  seemed  to  indicate  he  did 
not  like  it. 

Turner  Side  continued  to  explain,  telling  of  the  stam- 
pede, while  Robinson  listened  with  a  queer  frown  on  his 
face.  When  the  rainmaker  had  finished,  the  rancher  said : 

"Herder  brought  in  word  a  bunch  had  stampeded,  but 
he  didn't  seem  ter  know  thar  wuz  human  critters  behind 
it.  I've  sent  out  men  ter  look  arter  the  critters." 

After  a  moment,  Robinson  whistled  again,  and  this 
time  the  signal  brought  two  men  running  to  the  spot. 

"Hyar,  boys,"  he  said,  "take  car'  o'  this  yar  hawse, 
while  I  take  car'  o'  these  uns.  Come,  Side;  come  on, 
boys.  I'll  allow  you  may  be  hungry." 

"I  can  eat  a  pair  of  broiled  boots !"  exclaimed  Frank. 

"Wa-al,  yer  shall  have  something  better  as  soon  as  it 
can  be  made  ready  fer  yer.  Come  inter  ther  house." 

They  followed  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  RANCH  DANCE. 

1  Robinson  had  a  wife  and  daughter.  The  latter  was 
black-eyed,  like  her  father,  and  rather  pretty  in  a  wild 
sort  of  way.  She  was  two  or  three  years  older  than 
Frank,  but  the  boy  caught  her  regarding  him  with  admir- 
ing eyes  more  than  once  during  supper. 

Hans  tried  to  flirt  with  the  girl,  but  she  gave  him  such 
a  snub  that  he  was  quite  upset. 

Her  name  was  Edna,  and  Robinson  saw  that  both  lads 
were  introduced  to  her. 

"Want  yer  ter  make  yerselves  right  ter  home,"  said  the 
rancher.  "We're  sociable  people  hyar.  'Tain't  often  we 
have  visitors  from  ther  East." 

After  supper,  as  they  were  sitting  on  the  veranda, 
watching  the  glow  of  the  sunset,  which  rose  over  the 
purple  Rockies,  amid  which  Pike's  Peak  gleamed  snowily, 
Robinson  said: 

"You  fellers  come  along  at  just  about  ther  right  time. 
We're  goin'  ter  have  a  hoe-down  hyar  ter-night." 

"A  hoe-down  ?"  questioned  Frank.    "What's  that  ?" 

"Don't  yer  know  what  a  hoe-down  is?  Why,  it's  a 
'dance,  of  course.  Haw !  haw  !  haw  !" 

"Why,  of  course  it  is !"  exclaimed  Frank,  rather  em- 
barrassed. "I  should  have  known  that." 

"Oh,  wa-al,  you're  excusable,  seein'  as  how  ye're  a  ten- 
derfoot. Tenderfeet  ain't  expected  ter  know  ev'rything." 

"Vos  you  peen  goin'  to  haf  a  tance?"  cried  Hans,  in  de- 
light. "Veil,  uf  dot  don'd  peen  der  stuff!  Don'd  I  vos 
glat  I  gome!" 

"Yeh,"  nodded  Robinson,  who  was  smoking  another 
cigar;  "goin'  ter  have  a  reg'lar  ole  rip-snorter.  Invited 
everybody  fer  a  hundred  miles  around  hyar.  They'll  be 
comin'  in  purty  soon." 

All  at  once,  Turner  Side  made  a  leap  and  came  to  his 
feet,  crying: 


A  Ranch  Dance.  177 

"Great  smoke!  I  forgot  to  say  anything  to  the  cow- 
boys about  the  contents  of  my  wagon!  If  they  go  to 
monkeying  with  that  stuff,  they're  liable  to  blow  up  the 
whole  ranch!" 

Round  the  corner  he  plunged,  running  toward  the 
stable,  whither  the  wagon  had  been  taken. 

Robinson  rose  deliberatly,  saying : 

"Dern  my  boots !  it's  lucky  ther  boys  ain't  been  no  sin' 
round  that  yar  wagon." 

Then  he  slowly  followed  the  rainmaker. 

Shortly  after  this  the  first  squad  of  visitors  arrived, 
bringing  the  musicians  with  them.  These  musicians  were 
three  decidedly  villainous-looking  Mexicans,  a  violinist,  a 
harper,  and  a  guitar  player.  There  were  three  other  men, 
and  two  women,  in  the  party. 

From  that  time  onward  the  visitors  came  thickly,  and 
Robinson  was  on  hand  to  welcome  them  all. 

Frank  felt  a  touch  on  his  arm,  and  saw  Turner  Side 
at  his  elbow.  The  rainmaker  walked  round  the  corner 
of  the  cabin,  and  the  boy  followed. 

"Are  you  armed  ?"  whispered  the  man. 

"No.     Train-wreckers  took  my  revolver  to-day." 

Turner  thrust  a  revolver  into  Frank's  hand. 

"Take  this;  keep  it  out  of  sight.  You  may  need  it 
later  on." 

"Why?  What  have  you  heard?  What  makes  you 
think  I  may  need  a  revolver?" 

"I  heard  something  when  I  hurried  into  the  stable  tc 
warn  those  fellows  about  monkeying  with  my  wagon 
Two  of  the  cowboys  were  talking  together.  What  ] 
did  hear  was  enough  to  make  me  think  we  might  find 
ourselves  in  serious  trouble  to-night.  We  mustn't  talk 
too  much ;  might  be  heard.  It  was  unlucky  for  you  when 
you  fell  in  with  me.  I  am  suspected."  ,. 

"Of  what?" 

"Of  being  an  enemy  of  the  train-wreckers.  'Sh! 
You're  a  level-headed  boy,  or  I  would  not  trust  you  as 
much  as  I  have.  Look  out  for  yourself.  We  may  find 
ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a  pack  of  tigers  before  long. 
Don't  say  a  word  to  the  Dutch  boy ;  he's  too  thick.  Now 
get  back.  Some  one  may  be  looking  for  us  now.  Be 


A  Ranch  Dance. 

cautious.  If  we  get  in  a  tight  corner,  we  must  stand  to« 
gether." 

"Depend  on  me." 

"Good!" 

Turner  Side  strolled  round  the  ranch,  and  Frank  re- 
turned to  the  veranda. 

The  interior  of  the  house  was  illuminated  with  many 
tallow  candles.  The  visitors  were  talking  and  laughing, 
the  coarse  voices  of  the  men  mingling  with  the  smoother 
voices  of  the  women  and  girls. 

Some  of  the  girls  were  pretty,  in  a  rough  way,  some 
were  bashful,  and  some  were  boisterous. 

Somehow  Hans  had  taken  a  fancy  that  he  was  good- 
looking,  and  he  was  doing  his  best  to  make  a  hit  with  the 
girls.  Frank  found  him  the  center  of  a  laughing  party, 
all  of  whom  were  having  sport  at  his  expense,  although 
he  had  an  idea  that  they  were  laughing  at  his  bright  re- 
marks. Seeing  Frank,  the  Dutch  lad  called: 

"Gone  avay  from  here,  Vrankie;  you  don'd  cut  some 
ice  ven  I  vos  aroundt." 

Edna  Robinson  quickly  left  the  group  and  approached 
Frank,  to  whom  she  said : 

"Permit  me  to  introduce  you,  Mr.  Merriwell.  You 
may  find  a  pretty  girl  in  the  party." 

"I  found  one  before  the  party  came,"  returned  Frank, 
in  a  tone  that  brought  the  color  to  her  cheeks.  "It  is  not 
possible  to  find  a  prettier  one  now." 

"You  are  a  flatterer !"  she  murmured,  with  her  eyes  on 
the  floor. 

"Not  at  all;  I  am  a  second  edition  of  the  immortal 
George — I  can  tell  nothing  but  the  truth." 

She  introduced  him  all  round,  and  Frank  set  about 
making  himself  as  agreeable  as  possible. 

Robinson  came  up  and  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder 
with  good-natured  familiarity. 

"That's  right,  young  man ;  hoe  right  in.  Ther  music 
is  goin'  ter  start  up  in  a  minute,  an'  you  want  ter  cap- 
ture ther  purtiest  gal  for  ther  fust  dance." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Robinson." 

The  musicians  began  to  tune  up.  The  cowboys  and 
ranchers  were  impatient  for  the  dance  to  begin. 

Frank  looked  around   for  Robinson's   daughter,  and 


A  Ranch  Dance.  179 

found  her  talking  with  a  rather  dandified,  dark-faced, 
black-eyed  fellow. 

"Wonder  if  he  is  asking  her  to  dance  with  him  ?"  specu- 
lated the  boy.  "I  meant  to  be  ahead  of  all  comers." 

He  slowly  approached  them,  and  Edna  saw  him,  imme- 
diately saying: 

"Oh,  you  want  a  partner,  Mr.  Merriwell.  I  will  get 
one  for  you.  Excuse  me,  Jack." 

The  young  fellow  with  whom  she  had  been  talking 
scowled  blackly  at  Frank,  as  the  girl  skipped  away  and 
took  the  boy's  arm,  asking: 

"Whom  have  you  chosen  as  the  one  you  most  desire 
for  your  first  partner?" 

"You,"  he  replied,  softly. 

"Me?" 

She  seemed  greatly  surprised. 

"Yes.  I  sincerely  hope  you  are  not  engaged  for  the 
first  dance?" 

"Well,  no — not  exactly.  I  suppose  Darrol  expects  .me 
to  dance  with  him.  He's  the  one  I  was  talking  with  just 
now.  I  don't  like  him  too  well;  but  pop  thinks  he's  all 
right,  and  Darrol  bothers  me  to  death.  Everybody  thinks 
I'm  going  to  tie  to  him;  but  I  reckon  they'll  find  out 
they're  mistaken." 

She  tossed  her  head,  and  looked  prettier  than  ever. 

"By  jingoes !  she  has  spirit  and  nerve !"  thought  Frank. 
"She  is  something  like  a  young  panther." 

Aioud,  he  said : 

"Give  me  the  first  dance ;  let  Darrol  take  his  turn  later." 

"All  right,  it's  a  go.  Jack  may  be  mad,  but  he  ain't 
got  any  rope  on  me,  and  I  want  him  to  understand  it." 

The  music  struck  up,  and  the  couples  began  to  form  on 
for  the  first  dance.  It  happened  that  Frank  and  Edna 
were  at  the  head  of  the  first  set.  Frank  saw  Jack  Darrol 
approaching  in  a  hurry,  his  face  black  as  a  thundercloud. 

"Look  here,  Miss  Robinson,"  said  Darrol,  "this  is  our 
dance." 

The  girl  pretended  to  be  very  much  surprised. 

"Ours !     I  reckon  not.     You  didn't  ask  me." 

"I  didn't;  but  you  knew.  You  always  dance  the  first 
dance  with  me.  Come." 


i8o  A  Ranch  Dance. 

"Not  this  time,  Jack.  I'm  on  the  floor,  and  I  can't 
leave  my  partner.  I'll  dance  next  time  with  you." 

"To  blazes  with  the  next  dance !  I  want  this  one,  and 
I'm  going  to  have  it !" 

Then  she  showed  her  spirit;  her  head  went  back,  and 
her  eyes  blazed  upon  him. 

"You  have  made  a  mistake,  Mr.  Darrol;  I  shall  not 
dance  this  set  with  you,  nor  will  I  dance  with  you  at  all, 
unless  you  are  more  respectful  in  your  language !" 

He  ground  his  white  teeth. 

"All  right !  Dance  away !  You'll  be  sorry  for  it,  and 
so  will  that  kid  tenderfoot  you've  cottoned  to!  He  may 
be  taken  sick  before  morning !" 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

MORE  TROUBLE. 

The  look  which  Jack  Darrol  shot  at  Frank  Merriwell 
betrayed  the  murderous  hate  gnawing  at  the  man's  heart. 

Just  the  faintest  trace  of  a  contemptuous  smile  flittered 
across  the  boy's  face. 

Darrol  walked  away,  and  the  hand  of  Edna  Robinson 
fell  on  the  arm  of  her  partner,  while  she  whispered : 

"I  oughtn't  to  have  done  so!  He  is  dangerous — is 
Jack.  I  didn't  think  what  kind  of  a  quarrel  I  might  get 
you  into,  Mr.  Merriwell." 

"Don't  worry  about  me,"  said  Frank,  quietly.  "I  can 
take  care  of  myself." 

"Ah,  but  you  don't  know  Jack  Darrol.  He  has  a  fear- 
ful temper,  and  he  is  handy  with  gun  or  knife." 

"I'll  keep  my  eyes  open  for  him." 

"That's  right,  keep  your  eyes  peeled.  If  he  tries  to 
jump  on  you,  holler  for  help.  There  goes  the  music !" 

The  dance  had  begun. 

The  music  was  rather  lively,  and  the  dance  started  off 
with  a  whoop  from  the  cowboys,  who  soon  kicked  up  the 
dust  out  of  the  floor  with  their  heavy  boots  so  that  the 
entire  party  fell  to  coughing.  It  was  a  wild  "hoe  in" 
affair  such  as  Frank  Merriwell  had  heard  about,  but  never 
dreamed  of  taking  part  in.  The  foreman  of  the  ranch, 
who  had  been  "irrigating"  freely  from  the  jug  of  "strong 
water"  which  was  kept  in  an  adjoining  room,  stood  up  on 
a  chair  and  roared: 

"Dance  thar,  you  fellers,  or  you'll  git  ther  gout !" 

Edna  Robinson  was  the  best  girl  dancer  in  the  room, 
and  Frank  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  dance  most 
heartily. 

The  jug  of  "strong  water"  had  been  freely  drawn  on 
by  the  majority  of  the  guests,  so  that  every  one  seemed 
to  feel  like  dancing. 

At  the  expiration  of  the  first  dance,  Edna  whispered 
to  Frank: 


1 82  More  Trouble. 

"Remember  to  be  on  your  guard  against  Jack  Darrol.  I 
like  you,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  you  carved  just  because 
you  took  a  shine  to  me." 

Frank  thanked  her,  and  they  separated.  He  took  a. 
fancy  to  watch  the  next  dance,  and  he  wandered  into  the 
room  where  a  hilarious  party  was  gathered  round  the  jug. 

Darrol  was  there,  and  he  was  talking  in  a  corner  with 
a  big,  ugly  looking  ruffian.  They  were  speaking  in  a  low 
tone,  and  they  saw  Frank  enter  the  room. 

Almost  immediately  Darrol  left  the  big  man  and  ap- 
proached the  boy,  saying: 

"You  worked  it  slick,  tenderfoot,  and  scooped  my  gal. 
That's  one  on  me.  Let's  take  a  drink  together  and  talk 
it  over." 

"I  am  willing  to  talk,"  said  Frank,  pleasantly;  "but  I 
beg  you  to  excuse  me  from  drinking,  as  I  never  touch 
liquor." 

"Get  out!"  cried  Darrol,  with  an  attempt  at  good-na- 
tured bluffness.  "That  won't  go  down  here.  You  may 
not  drink  in  the  East;  but  everybody  drinks  out  here. 
Eh,  boys?" 

"That's  right,"  chorused  the  gathering. 

"So  now,  come  on,"  said  Darrol,  dropping  a  hand  on 
Frank's  arm.  "It  is  a  personal  insult  to  refuse  to  drink 
when  asked — it's  an  insult  to  me  and  to  Lije  Robinson, 
who  provides  the  stuff." 

"I  am  sorry ;  I  assure  you  I  mean  no  insult  to  anybody, 
but  I  never  touch  liquor,  and  I  cannot  do  so  now." 

Frank  regretted  that  he  had  entered  the  room,  but  now 
that  he  was  there,  the  only  possible  course  seemed  to  be 
to  keep  a  stiff  back,  and  face  the  affair  through  to  the  end. 
He  knew  well  enough  that  Darrol  meant  to  force  a  quar- 
rel, and  he  did  not  mean  to  be  taken  at  an  advantage. 

Darrol's  teeth  came  together  with  a  click. 

"You  must  drink!" 

"You  cannot  force  me  to  do  so." 

"You're  a  baby!  Men  drink  whisky;  babies  drink 
milk.  Boys,  who'll  bring  the  baby-boy  some  milk?" 

The  hot  blood  rushed  to  Frank's  cheeks,  but  he  held 
himself  in  check. 

Darrol's  scornful  words  had  caused  the  big  ruffian  to 
roar  with  laughter,  and  the  boy  looked  sharply  at  the 


More  Trouble.  183 

man.  The  giant's  hands  were  resting  on  his  hips,  and, 
in  a  moment,  Frank  noted  that  the  little  finger  of  the 
left  hand  was  missing! 

That  discovery  came  near  staggering  Frank,  for  he 
remembered  that  the  giant  among  the  train-wreckers  had 
lost  the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand. 

The  big  fellow  spoke : 

"Reg'ler  cow's  milk  might  be  too  strong  for  the  kid; 
he  must  take  it  watered." 

The  voice  was  that  of  the  masked  giant,  and  Frank 
knew  this  man  had  been  with  the  train-wreckers.  Such 
being  the  case,  it  was  possible  Jack  Darrol  was  one  of  the 
band.  Besides  those  two,  there  might  be  many  more  of 
the  wreckers  present  at  the  dance. 

Frank  began  to  feel  that  his  situation  was  far  from 
pleasant,  as  it  was  possible  those  men  would  suspect  him 
of  being  a  spy.  At  any  rate,  if  Darrol  belonged  to  the 
band,  he  would  stand  little  show  of  receiving  square 
treatment. 

Frank  backed  up  against  the  wall,  not  wishing  to  be 
caught  from  behind. 

"Boys,"  cried  Darrol,  "hold  the  jug,  an'  I'll  lead  the 
kid  to  it." 

"All  right,"  laughed  the  giant ;  "bring  ther  babby  up." 

"If  you  touch  me,  you  will  be  damaged,"  said  the  boy, 
very  calmly. 

Darrol  laughed  derisively,  and  attempted  to  grasp 
Frank's  arm,  when 

Spat!  a  hard  fist  struck  the  young  ruffian  fairly  be- 
tween the  eyes,  driven  with  all  the  strength  of  Frank's 
muscular  arm. 

The  promptness  with  which  the  calm  lad  knocked  Jack 
Darrol  down  brought  exclamations  of  amazement  from 
the  men  in  that  room. 

"What's  this?"  roared  the  giant,  in  amazement.  "The 
kid  has  hit  Jack  with  a  club!" 

"Nary  club,"  declared  another,  who  was  no  less  as- 
tonished. "He  done  it  with  his  little  fist !" 

"But — but  he  knocked  Jack  down!" 

"Sure  pop." 

"It  wuz  an  accident — it  sure  wuz  an  accident.  No  kid 
like  this  could  do  that  job." 


1 84 


More  Trouble. 


"Waal,"  growled  the  big  ruffian,  "I  reckon  I'll  have 
ter  spank  ther  babby  fer  that." 

He  took  a  step  toward  Frank,  but  Jack  Darrol  sat  up, 
sharply,  crying: 

"Hayer,  you!  don't  be  interfering  with  my  meat!  I 
can  look  out  for  myself;  let  the  tenderfoot  alone." 

"All  right,  Jack,  if  yer  say  so;  but  this  yar  tenderfoot 
seems  ter  be  mighty  lively." 

"I'll  make  him  lively !"  snarled  the  young  ruffian,  as  he 
got  upon  his  feet,  his  black  eyes  fixed  menacingly  on 
Frank.  "Boy,  there's  going  to  be  a  funeral  to-morrow, 
and  you'll  provide  the  corpse !" 

"You  alarm  me,"  smiled  Frank,  his  manner  seeming 
to  indicate  that  he  was  quite  cool  and  unconcerned. 
"This  is  the  first  time  I  have  heard  that  such  an  event 
is  to  take  place." 

"Oh,  it  is?" 

"That's  what  I  said." 

"Well,  you  hear  it  now,  and  you  hear  it  straight.  No 
man  ever  struck  me  like  that  and  got  away  with  a  whole 
skin;  much  less,  a  kid." 

Slipping  his  feet  forward  slowly,  Jack  Darrol  began 
advancing  inch  by  inch  toward  the  boy.  Frank  flung  up 
one  hand,  crying: 

"Stop,  Jack  Darrol !  If  you  crowd  me,  you  will  be  the 
one  to  get  hurt!" 

This  brought  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the  ruffianly 
gang,  for  there  was  not  one  present  who  did  not  think 
Frank  had  succeeded  purely  by  accident  in  knocking  Dar- 
rol off  his  feet.  That  there  was  the  least  chance  for  such 
a  thing  to  be  repeated  they  did  not  dream. 

Darrol  did  not  laugh,  nor  did  he  pause.  He  continued 
to  advance  on  the  lad,  and  his  manner  of  doing  so  was  so 
snaky  that  it  gave  Frank  a  chill. 

Of  a  sudden,  Darrol's  hand  disappeared  into  his  bosom, 
appeared  again,  and  in  his  fingers  glittered  a  knife.  Not 
a  word  came  from  his  lips,  but  he  hurled  himself  forward, 
striking  straight  at  Frank  Merriwell's  heart. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  Frank  had  faced 
peril  of  such  a  nature,  and  he  retained  his  presence  of 
mind  in  a  most  marvelous  manner. 

Swift  as  were  Darrol's  movements,  Merriwell  moved 


More  Trouble.  185 

still  more  swiftly.  Like  a  cat,  he  leaped  aside,  and  the 
blade  of  the  knife  in  Jack  Darrol's  hand  was  driven  into 
the  wall.  Like  a  cat,  Frank  went  under  his  assailant's 
arm,  caught  Darrol  by  the  collar,  stooped  with  a  twisting 
movement,  and  flinging  the  fellow  over  his  back,  sent  him 
whirling  right  across  the  room. 

It  was  a  wrestling  trick  Frank  had  studied,  and,  in 
this  case,  he  had  exerted  every  pound  of  strength  he  pos- 
sessed. The  result  amazed  all  who  witnessed  the  feat. 

Darrol  spun  and  slid  across  the  room,  and  his  head 
struck  the  wall  with  such  force  that  he  fell  back  and  lay 
quivering  on  the  floor. 

For  a  moment  an  awed  hush  came  over  the  ruffians 
who  had  seen  this  wonderful  feat;  then  the  silence  was 
broken  by  a  roar  of  astonishment  and  anger. 

Out  came  revolvers,  and  bang,  bang,  bang,  out  went 
the  lights,  the  lighted  wicks  being  cut  by  the  bullets. 

Quick  as  thought,  Frank  flung  himself  flat  upon  the 
floor,  and  a  dozen  bullets  passed  over  his  body  and  lodged 
in  the  wall. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

FRANK    OVERHEARS    A    PLOT. 

Up  to  the  moment  Jack  Darrol  drew  the  knife  Frank 
had  not  realized  the  full  extent  of  his  danger.  Now  he 
knew  that  every  man  in  that  room  stood  in  with  Darrol, 
and,  more  than  that,  was  ready  to  shoot  in  a  manner  that 
was  decidedly  dangerous. 

Having  dropped  to  the  floor  when  the  lights  were  ex- 
tinguished, he  escaped  harm. 

For  all  of  his  fortune  thus  far,  he  felt  that  he  was 
still  in  a  bad  scrape,  and  he  instantly  resolved  to  get  out 
of  the  room  with  the  least  delay  possible. 

"The  door  will  be  guarded,"  was  his  thought.  "I  must 
escape  by  the  window." 

He  had  located  the  window  before  the  lights  were  shot 
out,  and  he  made  for  it  the  instant  he  could  leap  to  his 
feet. 

By  good  fortune,  he  made  no  mistake.  But  the  win- 
dow was  closed,  and  it  did  not  open  to  his  touch. 

Frank  backed  off  a  few  steps,  preparing  to  hurl  him- 
self headlong  through  the  window,  for  he  wasv  ready  to 
accept  a  few  gashes  from  broken  glass  if  he  could  get 
away  without  further  damage. 

Just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  leap  he  felt 
himself  grasped  by  the  hands  of  some  unseen  person. 

Finding  he  could  not  break  away,  the  desperate  boy 
turned  and  grappled  with  his  assailant. 

Not  a  word  passed  between  them,  but  the  man  quickly 
found  he  had  more  than  his  match. 

With  an  outlay  of  strength  that  astonished  himself, 
Frank  broke  the  man's  hold,  lifted  him  from  his  feet  and 
fairly  hurled  him  through  the  window. 

In  another  moment  the  lad  had  followed  the  man 
through  the  opening,  striking  on  his  feet,  and  he  lost  not 
a  moment  in  slipping  away  from  that  locality. 

Round  the  corner  of  the  house  he  went,  and  there  he 
paused  in  the  darkness,  muttering: 


Frank  Overhears  a  Plot.  187 

"That  was  a  decidedly  close  shave,  and  I  don't  care 
about  getting  into  that  kind  of  a  scrape  again.  It  is 
rather  unhealthy  round  here,  and  I  feel  like  moving  on 
without  delay." 

Barely  had  these  words  left  his  lips  when  he  felt  him- 
self clutched  once  more,  and  his  first  thought  was  that 
he  had  been  followed  by  the  man  whom  he  had  cast 
through  the  window ;  but  he  was  amazed  to  hear  a  famil- 
iar voice  say: 

"So  you've  struck  fast  company,  have  you,  Frank  Mer- 
riwell?  Well,  you  are  a  rising  young  man,  and  it  may 
be  hard  work  to  down  you.  Now,  I  am  a  fellow  who 
never  had  an  opportunity  to  rise — unless  it  happened  to 
be  on  the  toe  of  somebody's  boot." 

"Hard  Pill!"  exclaimed  Frank.    "You— you  here?" 

"I  guess  yes." 

"Why— why,  how " 

"Now  don't  go  to  asking  too  many  questions,"  cau- 
tioned the  tramp,  for  it  was  indeed  Harden  Pillsbury. 
"I  am  here  about  my  business — seeking  an  opportunity." 

"An  opportunity  for  what?" 

"  'Sh !  Keep  your  voice  down.  Are  you  aware  that 
you  have  dropped  into  a  nest  of  very  bad  birds?" 

"I  had  begun  to  suspect  it." 

"Um — yes.  Well,  it  is  not  healthy  round  these  parts, 
and  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  you  to  move  right  up  and 
get  away  from  here  soon  as  possible." 

"I  think  you're  right." 

"I  know  I  am.  Now  I  have  some  horses  out  here  a 
short  distance.  Never  mind  how  they  came  there.  I  ob- 
ject to  answering  so  manv  questions.  They're  there.  I 
want  you  to  watch  'em,  while  I  gather  in  that  Dutch  boy. 
You  stick  to  me,  and  you'll  come  out  of  this  with  a  whole 
skin;  but  I  don't  allow  you'll  be  that  lucky  if  you  at- 
tempt to  go  it  alone." 

Frank  did  not  know  just  why,  but  he  placed  a  large 
amount  of  confidence  in  Hard  Pill,  wretched  tramp  and 
vagrant  though  the  fellow  was;  and  he  permitted  him- 
self to  be  led  away  by  the  man,  although  fully  aware 
that  he  was  taking  many  chances  by  so  doing. 

They  proceeded  some  little  distance  into  the  darkness, 
and  then  they  came  to  a  hollow  where  three  horses  were 


1 88  Frank  Overhears  a  Plot. 

huddled.  Hard  Pill  quieted  the  animals  by  speaking  to 
them  in  a  low  tone,  and  the  lad  noticed  that  the  voice  of 
this  miserable  tramp  was  musical  and  soothing. 

"Stay  right  here  till  I  come  back,"  advised  the  man. 
"Keep  close  to  the  horses." 

And  then,  before  Frank  could  say  anything  more. 
Hard  Pill  slipped  away  into  the  darkness. 

There  had  been  considerable  excitement  about  the 
ranch,  but  it  was  subsiding,  although  Frank  had  no 
doubt  but  a  search  was  being  made  for  him  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

The  music  had  started  up  again,  and  he  could  hear  the 
cowboys  whooping  with  delight  as  they  capered  about. 

It  was  all  very  wild  and  strange  to  Frank,  and  he  won- 
dered if  he  were  not  dreaming. 

What  had  become  of  Hans  and  Turner  Side? 

He  began  to  feel  as  if  he  had  deserted  the  Dutch  lad 
in  a  time  of  danger,  and  that  thought  made  him  very  un- 
easy and  restless. 

Then,  when  he  came  to  think  of  it  all,  Hard  Pill  had 
acted  queerly.  He  had  declined  to  answer  questions,  and 
he  had  seemed  to  talk  and  appear  differently  from  his 
manner  at  the  time  when  Frank  had  first  seen  him. 

"There's  something  about  that  fellow  that  isn't  just 
as  it  shows  on  the  surface,"  thought  the  boy.  "He  did 
not  question  me  as  to  how  I  came  here,  and  he  would  not 
allow  me  to  question  him." 

Frank's  uneasiness  increased.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
Hard  Pill  was  not  to  be  trusted. 

Then  came  a  thought  that  fairly  staggered  the  boy. 

"How  should  a  tramp  have  three  horses?  If  he  did 
not  steal  them,  it  is  possible  he  contemplates  doing  so. 
Or  it  is  possible  I  have  let  him  lead  me  into  a  trap.  If 
I  were  found  here  with  these  horses,  I  should  be  taken 
for  a  horse  thief,  and  they  make  short  work  of  horse 
thieves  out  in  this  country." 

It  did  not  take  Frank  long  to  decide  that  he  would 
look  after  Hans  himself.  He  could  see  no  reason  why 
a  common  tramp  should  take  so  much  interest  in  them, 
and  he  was  not  going  to  trust  everything  to  Hard  Pill. 

Having  arrived  at  a  belief  that  it  was  not  best  to  trust 
the  tramp  too  far,  it  was  not  long  before  Frank  slipped 


Frank  Overhears  a  Plot.  189 

away  from  the  horses,  and  he  breathed  easier  when  he 
was  at  a  safe  distance  in  the  darkness. 

"Now,"  he  muttered,  "I  must  approach  the  house 
without  being  seen.  I'll  slip  round  behind  the  nearest 
corral." 

This  he  soon  did,  but,  as  he  was  stealing  round  the 
corral,  he  was  brought  to  a  sudden  halt  by  the  sound  of 
voices  close  at  hand — the  voices  of  men  talking  in  a 
low  tone  in  the  darkness. 

Slowly  and  cautiously  Frank  crept  forward,  and  he 
Mas  soon  able  to  make  out  that  a  little  knot  of  men  had 
gathered  there  in  the  darkness,  and  the  manner  in  which 
they  were  speaking  seemed  to  indicate  they  did  not  wish 
to  be  overheard. 

The  boy's  curiosity  was  thoroughly  aroused,  and  he 
resolved  to  hear  what  the  men  were  saying,  if  possible. 

Lying  flat  upon  the  ground,  he  wormed  his  way  for- 
ward, and  he  did  not  stop  till  he  was  near  enough  to 
overhear  and  understand  their  talk. 

The  first  words  he  heard  were  spoken  by  the  big  man 
who  had  been  so  ready  to  back  Jack  Darrol  a  short  time 
before.  This  man,  whom  Frank  firmly  believed  was  one 
of  the  train-wreckers,  was  saying: 

"That  boy  is  altogether  too  smart  for  an  innercent  kid 
— you  hear  me.  He  didn't  come  hyar  for  the  fun  of  it, 
you  bet;  an'  I  think  we  hadn't  oughter  rest  till  he's 
found." 

"Oh,  let  the  kid  go,  Hank !"  said  another  voice,  which 
Frank  instantly  recognized  as  being  that  of  the  leader 
of  the  train-wreckers.  "He's  liable  to  come  back  to 
the  ranch,  and  then  somebody'll  take  care  of  him." 

"Darrol  is  the  man  to  do  that." 

"Wa-al,  I  dunno,"  put  in  a  third  person.  From  what 
we  saw,  ther  boy  is  altogether  too  swift  fer  Darrol." 

"Next  time  it  will  be  different.  But  the  chances  are 
that  the  boy  was  so  badly  scared  that  he  hasn't  stopped 
running  yet,  and  I  do  not  think  he  will  be  found." 

"You're  makin'  a  mistake  in  that  boy,"  declared  the 
voice  of  the  giant.  "To  begin  with,  he  ain't  as  young 
as  he  looks — not  by  a  blamed  sight ;  and  you'd  all  oughter 
know  he  ain't  as  innercent  as  he  appeared.  I  wouldn't 


190  Frank  Overhears  a  Plot. 

be  surprised  if  he  turned  out  to  be  Jarvis  Jackson,  the 
detective  who  had  sworn  to  break  us  up." 

"Oh,  he  ain't  Jackson !     Such  a  thing  is  impossible." 

"Mebbe  so;  mebbe  not." 

"Well,  Jackson  or  not,  we're  to  throw  the  east-bound 
Pacific  express  just  the  same,  eh?" 

"Of  course." 

Now  the  boy  in  the  grass  listened  with  the  most  in- 
tense eagerness. 

"It's  a  daring  scheme,  cap;  right  on  top  of  our  failure 
with  the  Overland  Flyer." 

"That  is  why  I  believe  in  doing  it  at  once.  In  every 
other  instance  we  have  waited  some  time,  and  then  had 
made  a  big  jump  from  one  place  to  another.  We  won't 
be  expected  to  repeat  the  trick  on  the  same  track  in  a  little 
more  than  twenty-four  hours." 

"That's  right." 

"Of  course  it's  right." 

"Well,  what  you  say  goes." 

"Then  be  at  White  Gap  to-morrow  night  at  the  time 
set,  and  we  will  carry  out  the  work.  We  can  dump  the 
express  into  Sandy  Creek,  and  we'll  do  the  job  under 
cover  of  darkness,  too." 

"All  right,  cap,  we'll  be  on  hand." 

Frank  hugged  the  ground,  his  heart  pounding  in  his 
bosom,  for  he  had  overheard  a  plot  to  wreck  another 
train,  and  he  knew  that  he,  and  he  alone,  might  be  able 
to  save  that  train.  If  he  were  discovered,  he  would  not 
only  lose  his  own  life,  but  the  lives  of  many  on  the  ex- 
press would  be  sacrificed. 

The  boy  was  horrified  by  the  cold-blooded  manner  in 
which  the  desperadoes  had  talked  of  hurling  the  express 
from  the  track  into  Sandy  Creek. 

"They  are  monsters !"  he  mentally  exclaimed.  "If  I 
am  discovered  by  those  ruffians,  it  will  mean  sure  death !" 

He  was  about  to  begin  creeping  away,  but  he  suddenly 
realized  that  it  was  too  late.  The  little  party  of  plotters 
was  breaking  up  and  separating. 

Then  Frank  caught  his  breath  and  hugged  the  ground, 
for  one  of  the  men  was  coming  that  way. 


CHAPTER  XL. 
IN  THE  HERDERS'  HUT. 

Frank  lay  close  and  still  upon  the  ground,  and  the  man 
passed  within  reach  of  the  boy's  arm.  Frank  did  not 
venture  to  stir  till  the  sound  of  footsteps  had  died  out. 

"To-morrow  night  at  White  Gap,"  thought  Frank. 

"I  ought  to  be  able  to  save  that  train I  must  do  so ! 

More — I  should  be  able  to  trap  those  ruffians  in  some 
way.  I  must  trust  to  myself — I  must  depend  on  myself. 
How  can  I  get  there?  Those  horses — I  can  take  one  of 
them — must  do  so.  I  must  run  my  chances  of  being 
taken  for  a  horse  thief." 

He  was  on  his  feet  and  ready  for  the  move,  when  he 
suddenly  exclaimed: 

"Hans !" 

He  could  not  desert  the  Dutch  boy;  Hans  must  be 
found  and  taken  along. 

With  great  caution,  he  passed  round  the  corral  and 
approached  the  house,  from  which  came  the  sounds  of 
hilarious  revelry.  In  a  few  moments  he  obtained  a  po- 
sition where  he  could  look  in  by  a  window,  and  he  saw 
Hans  wildly  prancing  around  in  the  midst  of  the  dancers. 

It  was  evident  the  Dutch  boy  was  having  a  very  good 
time,  and  Frank  was  relieved  to  see  that  his  friend  had 
not  been  harmed. 

"Ten  to  one  he  doesn't  know  anything  about  my  close 
call.  If  he  did,  he'd  not  be  there.  He  has  stuck  by  the 
girls  so  closely  that  the  ruffians  have  not  had  a  good 
opportunity  to  down  him,  if  they  contemplate  doing  so. 
He  is  quite  unaware  of  his  danger.  How  in  the  world 
am  I  going  to  get  him  out  of  that?  It  will  not  do  for 
me  to  go  in  there,  and " 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  for  the  ranch  door  opened,  and 
a  girl  came  out.  For  a  moment  the  light  behind  her  re- 
vealed her  distinctly.  It  was  Edna  Robinson. 

"Why  is  she  coming  out  here?"  thought  Frank.     "If 


192  In  the  Herders'  Hut. 

she  will  get  away  from  that  door,  I  can By  Jingoes ! 

she  is  going!" 

Edna  came  down  the  veranda,  and  passed  round  the 
corner  of  the  house. 

Frank  lost  no  time  in  following. 

"Miss  Robinson,"  he  called,  in  a  low  tone. 

She  was  a  short  distance  ahead  of  him,  and  he  saw 
her  pause  and  turn,  uttering  a  low  cry.  In  a  moment 
he  was  beside  her,  saying,  swiftly,  in  a  guarded  manner: 

"This  is  a  great  piece  of  fortune !  How  did  you  hap- 
pen to  come  out  here?" 

"I  came  to  look  for  you,"  she  replied. 

"For  me?" 

"Yes." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  do  so?" 

"I  heard  Bud  Hayes  and  Mike  Grady  talking.  They 
did  not  know  I  was  listening.  We  all  thought  the  shoot- 
ing and  the  smashing  of  the  window  was  a  little  fun—- 
that is,  we  thought  so  at  first.  After  a  while  I  missed 
you.  And  then  I  found  Jack  had  a  black  eye.  I  began 
to  suspect  you  had  gone  into  that  room  and  found  trou- 
ble; but  I  couldn't  find  out  a  thing  till  I  heard  Hayes 
and  Grady  talking  it  over.  They  said  you  hit  Jack  in 
the  eye  and  then  threw  him  against  the  wall  and  stunned 
him  when  he  tried  to  stab  you.  How  could  you  do  it? 
Why,  you  are  only  a  boy,  and  Jack  Darrol  is  a  tiger  to 
fight." 

"I  don't  know  how  I  did  it,"  said  Frank,  modestly.  "I 
found  I  was  cornered  and  must  do  something,  so  I  waded 
in." 

"Now  they  think  you're  a  detective,  or  something;  but 
I  don't  believe  it.  You're  not  a  detective,  are  you?" 

"No." 

"I  knew  it;  but  Hayes  was  sure  you  could  not  be  as 
young  as  you  look." 

"I  am  younger,  as  I  am  large  for  my  age." 

"Well,  you  are  certainly  the  most  wonderful  boy  I  ever 
knew ;  but  you  must  not  go  back  there.  There  are  some 
ugly  men  in  there,  and  you  could  not  get  off  so  well, 
again.  Father  could  not  protect  you,  even  though  you 
are  his  guest.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you;  but  now 


In  the  Herders'  Hut.  193 

thar  I  have,  I  will  tell  you  that  you  must  go  away  from 
here  at  once." 

"I  am  quite  ready  to  go,"  half  laughed  the  boy.  "But 
it  is  not  so  easy  getting  away." 

"I  will  provide  a  horse  for  you.  I  own  two  horses 
of  my  own,  and  you  shall  have  one  of  them." 

"But  I  cannot  go  away  and  leave  Hans  Dunnerwust." 
"Of  course  not !     I  thought  of  you  alone." 
The  way  she  spoke  the  words  made  the  boy  fear  she 
was  about  to  make  an  open  declaration  of  affection  for 
him,  but  if  she  felt  such  an  impulse,  she  restrained  it. 

"Dunnerwust  shall  have  my  other  horse,"  she  declared. 
"Strike  straight  for  the  railroad,  which  is  to  the  south. 
The  clouds  are  beginning  to  break  away  without  so  much 
as  a  drop  of  rain,  for  all  of  Professor  Side's  efforts,  of 
which  he  has  been  telling  the  company.  The  stars  will 
guide  you.  From  the  wire  fence  to  the  railroad  is  but  a 
short  distance — two  or  three  miles.  When  you  reach 
the  track,  turn  to  the  west,  and  you  will  come  to  a  station 
within  eight  or  ten  miles.  There  you  can  flag  the  first 
train,  and  take  my  advice,  get  out  of  this  part  of  the 
country  as  soon  as  you  can.  We  may  never  meet  again, 
but  you  are  the  boy  who  downed  Jack  Darrol,  and  I 
shall  not  forget  you." 

"Nor  shall  I  forget  you,"  assured  Frank.  "You  have 
done  me  a  great  service.  How  can  I  pay  the  debt  I 
shall  owe  you  ?" 

He  saw  her  head  droop,  and  her  words  were  a  mere 
murmur,  as  she  said : 

"Pay  me?    I  don't  know.     Do  you  want  to  pay  me?'* 

"To  be  sure  I  do." 

In  a  moment  she  stepped  close  to  him,  and  swiftly 
whispered : 

"I  don't  care  if  it  is  bold — I  don't  care  what  you  think! 
We'll  never  see  each  other  again.  Then  kiss  me — kisS 
me  good-by!" 

Frank  hesitated  in  his  surprise.  To  be  sure  this  girl 
was  not  like  other  girls  he  had  met;  but  he  knew  from 
her  speech  and  her  manner  that  she  had  not  lived  all 
her  life  on  a  ranch.  She  admired  him,  but  still  she  looked 
on  him  as  a  boy,  younger  than  herself,  and  she  asked  a 


194  In  the  Herders'  Hut. 

kiss  in  return  for  what  she  had  offered  to  do  for  him 
— for  saving  his  life,  perhaps. 

He  felt  the  blood  burning  in  his  cheeks,  and  then,  just 
as  his  hand  touched  hers,  she  started  away,  exclaiming: 

"No!  I  see  you  do  think  I  am  bold — too  bold.  Per- 
haps I  am.  Good-by!" 

Before  he  could  detain  her,  she  darted  away,  leaving 
the  boy  troubled  with  confusion  and  regret. 

"It  is  her  way,"  he  murmured.  "She  has  befriended 
me;  I  should  not  have  hesitated,  and  now " 

"Now  I'll  fix  you!" 

He  distinctly  heard  the  words — recognized  the  voice — 
and  then  it  seemed  that  the  very  heavens  fell  crashing 
upon  his  defenseless  head. 

Jack  Darrol  had  followed  the  girl,  and  he  had  seen 
them  meet.  Consumed  by  jealousy,  he  crept  swiftly  up 
behind  Frank,  and  the  butt  of  a  heavy  revolver  struck 
the  boy  senseless  to  the  ground. 

With  the  return  of  consciousness,  Frank  became  aware 
that  two  men  were  quarreling  near  at  hand.  He  started 
to  sit  up,  and  then  he  discovered  that  he  was  bound  se- 
curely. 

"He  is  a  spy.  How  can  you  doubt  it.  He  must  be 
put  out  of  the  way." 

It  was  Darrol's  voice. 

"You're  away  off,  Darrol,"  declared  the  voice  of  the 
other  man,  and  the  unfortunate  lad  recognized  it  as  that 
of  Lije  Robinson,  the  rancher.  "This  yar  boy  is  no  spy, 
and  I  don't  propose  ter  have  him  murdered  on  my  ranch. 
You  hear  me  shout !" 

"I  wish  I  had  finished  him,  instead  of  bringing  him 
here !  I'd  done  it,  too,  if  you  hadn't  made  such  a  fuss 
about  having  him  wiped  out  round  the  house." 

"You're  altogether  too  ready  ter  do  dirty  work.  That's 
why  Edna  has  soured  on  you." 

"And  she  has  taken  a  fancy  to  a  baby,  like  this  young- 
ster!" 

"It's  a  mighty  lively  babby  this  youngster  is,  as  your 
eye  shows.  You're  jealous  of  him,  Jack,  an'  that's  what's 
ther  matter  with  you." 

"If  the  whole  gang  is  roped  in  you'll  be  to  blame  for 
it." 


In  the  Herders'  Hut.  195 

"I'll  take  ther  chances.  I  promised  my  little  gal  that 
I'd  see  this  yar  kid  had  a  squar'  deal,  an'  I'm  goin'  ter 
do  it,  you  bet  I" 

"Well,  are  you  goin'  to  set  him  free,  and  let  him  run  ?" 

"Not  yet.  I'm  goin'  ter  keep  him  hyar  a  while,  till  I 
am  sure  he  ain't  a  spy." 

"Then  what?" 

"I  may  set  him  free." 

Darrol  growled  in  his  throat,  like  an  enraged  beast. 

"Why,  don't  you  take  him  home,  and  marry  him  to 
your  daughter.  She's  in  love  with  the  babv.  and 
she " 

"Stop — stop  right  thar,  Jack  Darrol!  It  won't  be 
healthy  fer  you  ef  you  slur  my  little  gal !  She's  as  good 
a  gal  as  ever  drew  a  breath;  an'  she  ain't  got  no  reason 
ter  be  proud  of  her  father.  Ef  she  knew  ther  whole 
truth,  I'd  never  dare  look  her  in  ther  eyes  again ;  an'  I'm 
afraid  she  suspects  a  heap." 

"You're  getting  soft,  Rob !" 

"Wa-al,  I'm  sorry  fer  the  day  I  ever  fell  in  with  this 
yar  gang,  an'  I'd  like  ter  begin  life  over;  but  it's  too 
late,  an'  I  can't  turn  back.  Some  day  Edna'll  know  her 
old  dad  fer  jest  what  he  is,  an'  then — wa'al,  life  won't 
be  worth  much  arter  that !" 

Frank  felt  a  sudden  sympathy  for  Robinson,  as  it  was 
evident  the  man  was  not  wholly  bad.  He  had  fallen  into 
evil  ways,  and  had  been  led  on  by  evil  companions,  but 
he  was  inclined  to  be  remorseful. 

Darrol  laughed  harshly. 

"You  make  me  sick!  You'd  better  go  join  the 
church !" 

"That's  all  right,  Jack ;  you  ain't  got  a  gal  o'  your  own 
as  loves  yer,  an'  so  you  don't  know." 

"Drop  that!  It's  this  kid  we  were  talking  about. 
So  you're  bound  to  keep  him  here?" 

"For  a  while." 

"There  may  be  a  search  for  him." 

"Wa-al,  they  won't  be  likely  to  find  him  in  this  old 
herders'  hut."' 

"He  may  get  away." 

"Not  with  Manuel  watchin'  him." 


196 


In  the  Herders'  Hut. 


"Then  you're  goin'  to  leave  Manuel  to  guard  him?" 
cried  Darrol,  eagerly. 

"I  am ;  an'  I'm  goin'  ter  tell  ther  greaser  that  ther  boy 
ain't  ter  be  hurt.  I'll  fix  it  so  you  can't  get  back  hyar 
an  knife  ther  lad,  you  bet !  You  thought  o'  doin'  that — 
I  saw  it.  Wa-al,  you  can't  work  ther  trick,  Jack." 

"Bah !     You're  a  fool !" 

"I  may  be ;  but  I  kin  read  you." 

"  'Sh !  The  boy  moved — he's  coming  round.  We'd 
better  get  out." 

"That's  right.     Come  on." 

They  hurriedly  left  the  hut. 

"This  is  what  I  call  a  mighty  bad  scrape,"  thought 
Frank,  as  he  strained  at  his  bonds.  The  chances  are 
against  me,  for  Darrol  means  to  murder  me  in  the  end. 
I  have  been  getting  in  deeper  and  deeper,  and  it  looks 
as  if  I  had  got  in  so  far  that  there  is  no  getting  out. 
These  rawhide  ropes,  they  cut  into  my  wrists,  but  I  can- 
not loosen  them.  So  I  am  to  be  left  to  the  care  of  a 
greaser.  Ten  to  one,  Darrol  will  slip  back  here,  fill  the 
greaser  with  liquor,  and  then  finish  me.  Frank  Merri- 
well,  you  have  been  in  many  tight  places,  but  this  looks 
about  as  bad  as  any  of  them." 

His  head  was  throbbing  with  the  pain  of  the  blow  he 
had  received,  but  he  did  not  think  of  that. 

In  vain  he  tried  to  free  his  hands;  the  work  of  bind- 
ing him  had  been  well  done. 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  of  the  hut  opened,  and  a 
villainous-looking  Mexican  entered. 

Frank  tried  to  talk  with  the  fellow,  but  the  Mexican 
would  make  no  reply  to  his  questions.  Squatting  in  a 
corner,  the  fellow  rolled  and  lighted  cigarette  after 
cigarette,  smoking  in  stony  silence. 

The  hours  passed,  and  Frank  was  sure  another  day 
had  dawned,  although  it  was  dark  and  gloomy  within  the 
hut,  which  was  lighted  by  a  single  candle.  The  burn- 
ing of  the  candle  told  him  the  flight  of  time.  It  burnedl 
itself  out,  and  another  was  lighted  by  the  Mexican. 

At  length,  utterly  worn  out  and  exhausted,  although 
aching  in  every  limb,  the  captive  boy  slept. 

When  Frank  awoke  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  hunger 
seeming  to  gnaw  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  The  old 


In  the  Herders'  Hut.  197 

Mexican  was  still  squatting  in  the  corner  and  the  boy 
believed  the  fellow  asleep ;  but  the  instant  Frank  stirred, 
Manuel  was  on  the  alert. 

"Say,"  Frank  called,  "am  I  to  be  starved  to  death?" 

Without  a  word,  the  Mexican  arose  and  brought  some 
coarse  bread  and  water  to  the  captive. 

Placing  the  bread  and  water  on  the  ground,  the  guard 
cut  the  bonds  that  held  the  boy's  hands ;  but  as  Frank  was 
ready  to  fling  himself  at  Manuel,  a  revolver  appeared  in 
the  fellow's  hand,  and  it  was  pointed  straight  at  the  lad's 
head. 

Frank  ate  in  silence,  and  he  was  forced  to  submit  him- 
self to  be  bound  again  when  he  had  satisfied  his  hunger. 

Then  came  other  wretched  hours,  and  the  boy  began 
to  long  for  something  to  happen. 

He  thought  of  the  plot  to  wreck  the  Pacific  express, 
and  a  groan  was  forced  from  his  lips  when  he  contem- 
plated his  inability  to  prevent  the  consummation  of  the 
nefarious  scheme. 

Another  night  must  be  at  hand.  In  a  short  time  the 
train  would  be  derailed,  and  many  of  the  passengers 
must  be  hurled  into  eternity. 

What  was  that?  Frank  listened,  and  he  was  sure  he 
could  hear  the  thud-thud  of  horses'  feet.  The  sound 
came  nearer  and  nearer ;  it  stopped  close  to  the  hut. 

Manuel  arose,  his  hand  resting  on  a  weapon. 

Then  the  door  of  the  hut  was  flung  open,  and  in  the 
doorway  appeared  Edna  Robinson,  the  rancher's  daugh- 
ter! 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

EDNA. 

"Found!" 

The  word  fell  from  the  girl's  lips  as  her  eyes  rested 
on  Frank. 

The  youth  gave  an  exclamation  of  relief  and  satisfac- 
tion. 

Manuel  seemed  to  hesitate. 

Suddenly  the  girl  whirled  toward  the  Mexican,  and  a 
revolver  appeared  in  her  hand.  It  was  pointed  straight 
at  Manuel's  head. 

"Throw  down  your  weapons!"  she  cried.  "Throw 
them  down!  You  know  me,  and  you  know  I  can  shoot. 
If  you  do  not  obey  me  I  will  shoot  you !" 

There  could  be  no  doubt  but  that  she  was  in  deadly  ear- 
nest, and  with  a  muttered  ejaculation  in  Spanish,  the 
Mexican  cast  his  weapons  on  the  dirt  floor  at  his  feet. 
She  made  him  thus  dispose  of  every  one  of  them,  then 
she  made  him  hold  his  hands  above  his  head,  face  about, 
and  walk  up  against  the  wall. 

Quickly  catching  up  Manuel's  knife,  the  girl  lost  not 
a  moment  in  setting  Frank  free. 

"This  makes  the  debt  larger  than  it  was  before,"  he 
said.  "I  cannot " 

"Don't  spend  time  in  talk,"  she  cut  in.  "We  have 
no  time  to  lose.  I  knew  they  had  taken  you  somewhere, 
but  it  was  no  easy  task  finding  you.  You  must  not  fall 
into  their  hands  again.  Here,  take  these  cords,  bind 
that  greaser's  hands,  and  make  them  secure.  He  must 
be  trussed  up  so  he  cannot  wiggle  till  some  one  sets  him 
free." 

Frank  followed  her  directions  in  everything,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  Manuel  was  lying  on  the  floor,  bound 
so  he  could  scarcely  wiggle  a  finger. 

"That  settles  him,"  said  the  girl.  "Now  we  must  be 
off.  Come." 


Edna.  199 

He  followed  her  from  the  hut,  and  it  was  with  a  feel- 
ing of  unutterable  thankfulness  that  he  breathed  the  free 
air  again. 

It  was  near  sunset.  Unless  he  could  prevent  it,  in 
a  few  hours  the  express  would  be  derailed  at  White  Gap. 

There  were  two  horses  near  at  hand,  both  saddled. 

"I  brought  an  extra  horse,  hoping  I'd  find  you,"  ex- 
plained the  girl.  "We  must  strike  for  the  railroad  with- 
out the  loss  of  a  moment." 

"But  the  other  boy — Hans  Dunnerwust  ?" 

"He  disappeared,  together  with  the  rainmaker.  Some- 
body told  him  you  had  gone,  and  he  said  he  wouldn't  stop 
running  till  he  struck  Denver.  Come,  mount." 

She  was  in  the  saddle  before  he  could  swing  up,  and 
soon  they  were  riding  away  to  the  south.  Few  words 
passed  between  them,  for  the  girl  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  talk. 

The  sun  sunk  from  view,  and  night  came  on.  Still  the 
girl  led  the  way  unhesitatingly.  When  they  reached  the 
barbed-wire  fence,  she  dismounted,  and  it  did  not  take 
her  long  to  remove  the  top  strand,  so  they  were  able  to 
make  the  horses  leap  over. 

Then,  passing  through  a  broken  country,  they  came  to 
the  railroad  and  to  a  small  station,  about  which  were  a 
collection  of  rude  houses.  Edna  accompanied  Frank  to 
the  station. 

It  happened  that  the  station  agent  was  on  the  point  of 
closing.  He  had  been  talking  with  a  long,  lank,  red- 
headed, trampish-looking  man,  who  turned  to  leave,  and 
ran  full  into  Frank. 

"Hard  Pill !"  cried  the  boy,  in  surprise. 

"Well,  throw  me  cold !"  gasped  the  tramp.  "You  have 
turned  up  all  right!  That's  a  surprise.  We  gave  you 
up  as  done  for." 

"We?     Who?" 

"The  rainmaker,  the  Dutch  boy,  and  myself." 

"Hans  and  Turner  Side ;  where  are  they  ?" 

"Here." 

"Where?" 

"Nearby,  at  the  hotel." 

"A  hotel  in  this  place?" 

"Well,  it  is  called  that ;  but  it's  not  exactly  first-class." 


200  Edna. 

Frank  was  relieved,  but  he  had  no  time  to  ask  for  a 
complete  explanation.  He  remembered  that  there  was 
a  plot  to  wreck  the  express,  and  he  asked  how  far  it  was 
to  White  Gap.  When  he  found  it  was  less  than  ten 
miles  away,  he  took  Hard  Pill  aside,  and  said : 

"Look  here,  I  am  going  to  trust  you,  for  it  seems  that 
you  are  square." 

"Appearances  may  be  against  me,  but  I'm  a  white 
man,"  assured  the  vagabond. 

"Well,  I  know  of  a  plot  to  wreck  the  Pacific  express 
this  night,  and " 

Hard  Pill  caught  Frank  by  the  shoulder,  with  a  grip 
of  iron,  hoarsely  hissing: 

"You  know  of  a  plot  to  wreck  the  express  ?  Then  tell 
me,  boy;  tell  me!" 

"But  you " 

"Look  here,  I  am  no  tramp;  I  am  Jarvis  Jackson,  a 
detective,  and  I  am  here  to  break  up  this  gang  of  train- 
wreckers.  You  can  help  me,  and  you  shall  have  the 
credit  for  doing  so.  You  are  a  boy,  but  you're  the  smart- 
est lad  I  ever  struck,  and  that's  why  I  am  ready  to  give 
myself  away  to  you.  Tell  me  what  you  know,  and  be 
lively." 

So  Frank  told  the  man  everything,  and  he  did  not 
waste  many  words  in  doing  so. 

"Good!"  cried  the  detective.  "I  will  best  Wyman 
Hawes  on  this  job." 

"Who  is  Wyman  Hawes?" 

"Turner  Side,  the  rainmaker.  He  is  a  rival  detect- 
ive, and  I  am  dead  onto  him;  I  have  penetrated  his  dis- 
guise. I'll  dump  fifty  men  upon  the  wreckers,  at  White 
Gap,  and  I  reckon  the  gang  will  be  wiped  out." 

Jarvis  Jackson  stopped  the  station  agent  as  that  worthy 
was  leaving,  and,  ten  minutes  later,  a  cipher  telegram  was 
being  sent  to  intercept  the  express  a  hundred  miles  west 
of  White  Gap.  In  a  remarkably  brief  space  of  time  he 
set  his  trap,  as  he  had  been  prepared  to  act  swiftly  in  case 
it  should  be  required. 

Edna  Robinson,  forgotten  for  the  time  by  Frank,  had 
overheard  the  boy  when  he  told  Jackson  he  knew  of  a 
to  wreck  the  express.  In  a  moment  she  was  excited 
interested,  but  she  had  not  been  able  to  hear  and  un- 


Edna.  201 

derstand  more  of  the  conversation  that  passed  between 
the  lad  and  the  detective. 

As  soon  as  possible,  Edna  drew  Frank  aside,  and  be- 
gan to  question  him. 

The  boy  instantly  realized  that  it  would  not  do  to  tell 
her  too  much,  for  it  was  quite  likely  that  Robinson  him- 
self was  with  the  train-wreckers. 

Feeling  like  an  ingrate,  sick  of  the  whole  business, 
Frank  avoided  telling  her  at  what  point  the  wreckers 
meant  to  derail  the  train ;  avoided  doing  so  till  Hard  Pill 
stepped  in  and  told  her  a  deliberate  falsehood. 

Sometime  later  a  little  band  of  horsemen  rode  out  from 
the  town,  and  made  straight  for  White  Gap. 

And  they  were  followed  by  the  girl,  who  had  not  been 
deceived  by  Hard  Pill. 

Frank  and  Hans  were  with  the  party,  but  Wyman 
Hawes  was  left  behind. 

Every  individual  of  the  party  was  thoroughly  armed. 

Before  White  Gap  was  reached  the  party  left  the 
horses  behind,  proceeding  cautiously  on  foot. 

Jackson  did  some  scouting  on  his  own  hook,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  locating  the  wreckers,  after  which  he  struck  the 
railroad  to  the  west,  and  fastened  two  torpedoes  to  the 
track. 

When  this  was  arranged,  he  placed  his  men  so  the 
wreckers  were  cut  off  on  one  side,  and  then  they  waited 
for  the  express. 

It  came  on  time,  and  the  explosion  of  the  torpedoes 
gave  the  warning  required. 

The  train  stopped  before  the  fatal  point  was  reached — • 
stopped  to  allow  a  band  of  men  to  leap  off,  every  man 
carrying  a  rifle. 

Then  it  was  that  the  wreckers  sought  to  take  to  flight, 
but  found  themselves  between  two  fires,  as  Jackson  was 
ready  for  the  move. 

A  short,  fierce  encounter  followed,  and  the  ruffians 
were  overpowered,  although  they  did  not  surrender  till 
several  had  been  shot  down. 

When  the  captured  desperadoes  were  inspected,  Jack 
Darrol  was  found  among  them.  He  fairly  frothed  at 
the  mouth,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  Frank. 

"I  knevr  it!"  he  grated.    "I  knew  you  were  a  spyj 


202  Edna. 

You  have  worked  the  trick,  as  I  told  Robinson  von 
would.'' 

A  hand  was  on  Frank's  arm,  a  pleading  voice  sounded 
in  his  ear. 

"My  father — where  is  he?  Is  he  here?  Save  him — 
help  him  to  escape!  Remember  what  I  have  done  for 
you!" 

It  was  Edna  Robinson,  and  the  appeal  touched  the  boy's 
heart.  He  did  not  pause  to  ask  how  she  came  there,  but 
he  captiously  declared : 

"I  wi'l  save  him.  if  it  is  possible !" 

Then  he  found  Jackson — told  him  all — explained  how 
the  capture  could  not  have  been  effected  but  for  Edna. 

"Now,  she  asks  that  her  father  may  be  given  a  show  to 
escape.  Can  it  be  done?  He  saved  my  life,  and 
now " 

"We'll  try  it,"  whispered  Jackson. 

Five  minutes  later  there  was  considerable  commotion, 
for  one  of  the  captives  broke  away  and  took  to  his  heels, 
being  quickly  swallowed  in  the  darkness.  Thirty  bullets 
were  sent  after  him,  but  Lije  Robinson  escaped  unscathed. 

The  girl  had  disappeared,  and  Frank  never  saw  her 
again.  Nor  was  Robinson  captured.  He  did  not  return 
to  his  ranch,  and  Frank  believes  he  is  living  in  some  for- 
eign land,  safe  from  the  clutch  of  the  law,  and  trying  to  be 
an  honest  man.  It  is  probable  that  Edna  is  with  him. 

The  other  wreckers  who  were  captured  were  brought  to 
trial,  and  all  of  them  received  long  sentences.  As  Jack 
Darrol  was  shown  to  be  sort  of  a  lieutenant,  he  was 
given  a  sentence  equal  to  that  of  the  chief  of  the  gang. 

Wyman  Hawes,  the  "rainmaker,"  was  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted by  Jackson's  success ;  but  Jackson  came  out  fairly, 
and  declared  he  owed  it  all  to  Frank  Merriwell,  so  it  was 
soon  known  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other  that 
a  boy  had  been  instrumental  in  breaking  up  the  worst 
band  of  train-wreckers  ever  known. 

Frank  and  Hans  rejoined  Professor  Scotch  in  Denver, 
and  the  trio  continued  on  their  travels,  bound  for  the  in- 
terior of  Arizona. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

A  STORY  AND  A  MYSTERY. 

"Veil,  Vrankie,  vot  you  sbent  so  much  time  dot  biece  uf 
baper  ofer,  ain'd  id?  Vos  dot  a  lofe  letter  vot  you  peen 
carrying  in  your  bocket  aroundt  so  long  id  looks  like  id 
vos  in  need  repairs  uf  ?" 

"No,  this  is  not  a  love  letter,  Hans." 

"Vot  id  vos,  ain'd  id?" 

"It  is  a  chart." 

"Vot  vos  dot?" 

"A  map." 

"Oh,  yaw !  You  peen  sdutying  geolografy  to  seen  vere 
you  vos  at.  Vos  id  map  uf  der  vorld  ?" 

"A  very  small  part  of  the  world.  It  is  a  map  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  Santa  Catarina  Mountains,  Arizona,  where  we 
are  now.  In  fact,  I  am  sure  it  is  a  map  of  this  particular 
locality." 

"Veil,  vot  you  peen  so  inderested  in  dot  for  alretty  yet 
so  long?" 

''Because  this  map,  or  chart,  should  guide  me  to  a  piece 
of  property  that  is  of  sufficient  value  to  make  me  the  rich- 
est boy  in  the  world." 

Hans  gave  a  gasp  of  surprise,  and  almost  fell  off  his 
chair  to  the  floor. 

"I  don'd  toldt  you  so !"  he  cried. 

"That  is  straight,"  declared  Frank. 

"Vot  kindt  uf  broperty  ?" 

"Mine." 

"Yaw,  I  know  you  say  id  vos  yours;  but  vot  id  vos, 
ain'd  id?" 

"Why,  a  mine — a  mine !" 

"Oh,  yaw,  a  mine!  Und  id  vas  yours,  so  id  vasn't 
mine.  Uf  you  throw  noddings  ad  me  I  vill  dodge  id !" 

Frank  laughed. 

The  boys  were  seated  in  the  largest  private  room,  "one 
floor  up,"  of  the  New  York  Hotel,  which  was  located  in 


2O4  A  Story  and  a  Mystery. 

the  new  mining  town  of  Powder  Gap,  Santa  Catarina 
Mountains,  Arizona.  On  a  rude  bed  near  at  hand,  Pro- 
fessor Scotch  was  taking  his  regular  afternoon  nap,  snor- 
ing now  and  then  in  a  distressing  and  convulsive  manner. 

In  the  course  of  their  travels,  the  trio  had  wandered  to 
this  remote  mining  town,  the  professor  being  led  to  go 
there  through  the  request  of  Frank,  who  had  a  strange  de- 
sire to  visit  the  place. 

They  found  it  a  rude,  bustling  "camp,"  consisting  of 
rough  slab  shanties  and  canvas  tents  of  all  ages,  stages  of 
wear,  and  shades  of  color. 

It  was  a  wild  and  picturesque  place,  situated  in  a  rocky 
gorge,  through  which  flowed  a  small  stream  of  water, 
which,  in  the  rainy  season,  according  to  report,  swelled  to 
a  wide,  wild,  rushing,  roaring  river. 

Powder  Gap  was  not  a  placer-mining  town ;  it  depended 
entirely  on  its  ore  mines,  of  which  the  Giant,  the  first  one 
located,  was  the  richest  and  employed  the  most  men. 
Besides  the  Giant,  there  were  the  Queen  Bees,  the  White 
Lightning,  the  Big  Injun,  and  the  Noble  Roman.  Of 
these  mines,  the  Big  Injun  was  said  to  be  the  most  valu- 
able, standing  second  to  the  Giant,  although  it  was  a  mere 
dwarf  beside  the  latter. 

Wallace  Coville,  a  dark-faced  man  of  middle  age,  was 
the  owner  of  the  Giant.  There  were  streaks  of  white  in 
Coville's  hair,  but  his  lips  were  very  red,  his  eyes  glitter- 
ing black  and  restless,  and  his  entire  aspect  sinewy,  alert, 
pantherish. 

Coville  and  Carter  were  the  original  owners  of  the 
Giant,  but  Jason  Carter  had  disappeared,  in  a  sudden  and 
mysterious  manner,  and  no  one  seemed  to  know  what  had 
become  of  him.  If  any  one  hinted  at  foul  play,  he  took 
care  not  to  speak  too  openly. 

As  little  or  nothing  was  known  of  Carter,  who  had  been 
a  strangely  silent  and  taciturn  man,  forming  no  friend- 
ships and  making  few  acquaintances,  his  disappearance 
did  not  create  as  much  of  a  sensation  as  it  might  under 
other  circumstances. 

After  Carter's  vanishing,  Coville  continued  to  run  the 
mine  just  the  same,  and  he  once  publicly  stated  that  he 
and  Carter  had  formed  a  chance  partnership,  that  he  had 
known  nothing  in  particular  of  Carter's  past,  that  he  did 


A  Story  and  a  Mystery.  205 

not  know  if  Carter  had  a  relative  living,  and  that,  in  case 
he  did  have  relatives,  they  could  have  no  claim  on  the 
Giant  Mine,  as  there  had  been  an  agreement  between  him- 
self and  Carter  when  they  went  into  partnership  that  at 
the  death  of  either  the  property  should  belong  wholly  and 
undisputedly  to  the  other. 

He  did  not  state  if  such  an  agreement  had  been  made 
in  writing,  and  there  were  those  who  winked  and  looked 
wise  when  they  heard  of  it. 

There  were  a  few  who  longed  to  investigate  the  mys- 
tery of  Jason  Carter's  disappearance,  and  one  inquisitive 
individual  attempted  to  do  so. 

He  also  disappeared  in  a  most  sudden,  silent,  and  mys- 
terious manner,  and  George  Bailey  had  not  been  seen 
since  in  Powder  Gap. 

No  one  else  attempted  to  investigate,  and  the  impres- 
sion was  general  that  it  was  not  a  healthy  thing  to  be  too 
inquisitive  concerning  the  mystery. 

As  the  town  of  Powder  Gap  grew  rapidly,  and  other 
mines  were  opened  up,  the  mystery  concerning  Jason  Car- 
ter was  in  a  great  measure  forgotten. 

Powder  Gap  became  a  typical  Southwestern  mining 
camp,  wherein  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  people,  and  al- 
most all  nationalities,  could  be  seen. 

The  place  contained  numerous  saloons  and  gambling 
joints,  two  "hotels,"  of  which  the  New  York  was  far  the 
better,  and  one  theatre  and  dance  hall,  which  was  the  pride 
and  boast  of  the  town. 

As  yet  there  was  no  church  in  the  place,  and  some  of 
the  ruffians  declared  it  would  not  be  a  healthy  thing  for 
any  "praying  parson"  to  enter  the  limits  of  Powder  Gap. 

Together,  Frank  and  Hans  looked  over  the  chart,  while 
Professor  Scotch  slumbered  peacefully  on  the  bed. 

"There,"  explained  Frank,  "is  Tucson,  and  here  is 
Oracle." 

"How  you  know  dot?"  asked  the  Dutch  lad.  "I  don'd 
seen  no  name  to  him." 

"Well,  that  is  what  I  have  made  out  of  it  by  studying 
it  carefully.  The  names  were  not  engraved  on  the  ring." 

"On  der  ring?     Vot  ring?" 

"The  ring  this  chart  was  made  from." 


206  A  Story  and  a  Mystery. 

"Vrankie,  you  peen  got  me  all  dwisted  so  soon  alretty. 
I  don'd  know  nottings  apout  dot  ring." 

"Don't  you  remember  the  odd  ring  I  wore  at  Fardale — 
the  one  with  the  shining,  black  stone,  on  which  fine  lines 
were  traced?" 

"Oh,  yaw !  Der  ring  vot  dot  man  in  plack  sdole  vrom 
you?" 

"Yes." 

"But  he  didn't  get  avay  mit  dot  ring,  Vrankie.  He 
took  a  dumble  mit  himself  der  oldt  quarry  in,  und  dot  dum- 
ble  seddled  his  goose,  for  he  vas  puried  right  avay  soon 
after  dot." 

''Yes ;  he  was  trying  to  get  away  with  the  ring,  and  we 
were  pursuing  him,  when  he  fell  into  the  quarry.  He  was 
killed  by  the  fall,  and  I  recovered  the  ring.  That  man 
knew  the  value  of  the  ring,  and,  with  his  dying  breath, 
told  me  it  would  guide  any  one  to  a  rich  mine  in  Arizona. 
He  died  too  soon  to  explain  everything  fully,  but  he  said 
enough  to  show  me  just  how  much  the  ring  was  worth." 

"How  vos  id  he  knew  all  apout  dot?" 

"He  had  seen  the  ring  before  he  saw  it  on  my  hand — he 
claimed  to  have  possessed  it  once." 

"How  he  lost  id?" 

"I  don't  remember,  but  I  think  he  said  it  was  stolen 
from  him ;  but  it  was  not  rightfully  his,  as  he  had  stolen  it 
in  the  first  place." 

"Und  how  you  came  to  haf  dot  ring,  Vrankie?" 

"My  father,  who  was  seeking  his  fortune  in  the  West, 
sent  it  to  my  mother,  and  told  her  to  keep  it  till  he  called 
for  it.  Then  came  the  report  that  father  was  dead,  and, 
when  mother  died,  she  gave  the  ring  to  me,  telling  me  to 
keep  it  always." 

"Oxactly.     Where  dot  ring  peen  now  ?" 

''My  father  has  it." 

"I  thought  he  peen  deadt?" 

"It  was  a  false  report ;  he  was  not  dead." 

"I  don'd  toldt  you  so !" 

"Yes ;  after  the  ring  came  into  his  possession,  he  was 
tracked  from  place  to  place,  like  a  wild  beast,  by  a  band 
of  men  who  were  determined  to  possess  the  ring.  In  vain 
he  tried  to  throw  them  off  the  scent ;  they  were  like  blood- 
hounds on  the  trail.  He  found  he  was  constantly  in 


A  Story  and  a  Mystery.  207 

deadly  danger,  but,  knowing  the  value  of  the  ring,  he 
would  not  give  it  up.  He  sent  the  ring  to  my  mother, 
and  then,  with  the  aid  of  friends,  his  apparent  death  and 
burial  were  brought  about.  Notices  of  his  death  ap- 
peared in  papers,  and  were  sent  to  my  mother,  so  she  be- 
lieved him  dead." 

"Und  he  don'd  peen  deadt  ad  all  ?" 

"No." 

"Veil,  uf  dot  don'd  peat  der  pand!  How  he  come  to 
haf  dot  ring,  anyway?" 

"It  was  given  him  by  a  dying  man,  whom  he  had  be- 
friended, and  the  man  told  him  its  value." 

"Uud  he  haf  got  dot  ring  pack  now  ?" 

"Yes ;  he  came  for  it  at  the  time  when  we  visited  Uncle 
Asher.  My  living  father  was  the  ghost  which  Uncle 
Asher,  my  father's  brother,  believed  he  saw  in  the  old 
mansion.  You  know  that,  at  my  request,  I  was  allowed 
to  sleep  in  the  chamber  where  my  mother  died — the  cham- 
ber frequented  by  the  supposed  ghost.  He  came  that 
night,  and  I  confronted  him.  Then  I  found  that  my 
father,  whom  I  believed  dead  and  buried,  was  alive.  He 
had  come  for  the  ring,  which  he  believed  mother  had  left 
secreted  in  a  hidden  drawer  of  a  dressing-case  in  that 
chamber.  I  had  the  ring,  and  I  gave  it  up  to  him.  The 
one  ruling  ambition  of  my  father's  life  had  ever  been  to 
get  rich.  This  passion  had  made  him  a  wanderer  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  an  exile  from  his  home  and  the  ones  he 
loved.  He  pledged  me  to  secrecy ;  he  made  me  swear  not 
to  tell  his  brother,  my  Uncle  Asher,  the  truth,  and  then  he 
bade  me  farewell  till  the  ring  should  lead  him  to  the  won- 
derful mine  of  the  Santa  Catarina  Mountains.  From  that 
day  to  this  I  have  heard  nothing  from  my  father." 

"Dot  peen  a  story  like,  Vrankie.  I  vos  so  inderested  as 
nefer  vos  in  dot." 

"It  does  sound  rather  strange  and  improbable,  but  it 
is  true." 

" Vot  you  dink  haf  pecome  uf  your  fader  alretty  yet  ?" 

"That  is  a  mystery  I  would  like  to  solve;  that  is  one 
thing  which  brought  me  to  the  Santa  Catarina  Mountains 
and  Powder  Gap." 

"You  dinks  maype  you  found  him  here,  ain'd  id?" 

"I  did  not  know." 


2o8  A  Story  and  a  Mystery. 

"Yot  you  dinks  now?" 

"My  father  is  not  in  this  place;  I  am  satisfied  on  that 
point." 

"Veil,  vot  you  going  to  done  apout  dot  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  institute  an  investigation  of  certain 
things,  and  you  may  bet  your  last  dollar  on  that,  Hans !" 

"Dot's  peesness!     Vot  you  going  to  invesdigate  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  find  out,  if  possible,  how  Wallace  Coville 
came  into  possession  of  the  Giant  Mine." 

"Vot  dot  haf  to  do  your  fader  mit  ?" 

"This  chart,  which  was  drawn  from  the  lines  on  the 
stone  of  my  father's  ring,  locates  the  Giant  Mine.  That 
is  the  mine  for  which  my  father  passed  through  so  many 
dangers,  to  obtain  which  he  pretended  to  die  and  be 
buried.  If  my  father  is  still  alive,  that  mine  should  belong 
to  him ;  if  he  is  dead,  it  should  belong  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

DISCOVERY  OF  THE  RING. 

"Shimminy  Gristmas!  Dot  peen  more  inderesting  as 
nefer  vas  !  Dot  mine  peen  owned  by  Vallace  Goville,  und 
your  fader  don'd  peen  in  dot.  How  you  explain  him  ?" 

"I  don't  try  to  explain  it ;  but  I  would  like  to  have  Mr. 
Wallace  Coville  make  a  few  explanations." 

"I  don'd  plame  you  vor  dot,  Vrankie.  You  shust  ged 
righd  avay  after  dot  Vallace  Goville." 

"I  will,"  declared  Frank,  rising  to  his  feet.  "I  will  see 
him  at  once." 

"Und  I  vill  seen  him  mit  you." 

"No;  I  want  you  to  remain  here  with  the  professor. 
He  need  not  be  aroused  till  he  finishes  his  nap.  If  he 
awakens  before  I  return,  tell  him  where  I  have  gone." 

Hans  looked  disappointed. 

"Maype  you  ged  indo  a  scrap  mit  Vallace  Goville,  und 
I  don'd  peen  in  dot." 

"No  scrap,  Hans.     I  shall  look  out  for  that." 

"Youhaf  arevolfer?" 

"Yes." 

Frank  took  out  a  handsome  weapon,  and  examined  it 
to  make  sure  it  was  properly  loaded  and  in  working  order. 

"I  do  not  believe  in  carrying  a  weapon  of  this  sort,"  ne 
said;  "but  it  is  likely  to  prove  handy  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  As  has  been  said,  'one  may  never  need  a  gun  in 
the  West;  but,  if  he  should  happen  to  need  it,  he  is  sure 
to  need  it  bad.'  " 

"Yaw,  I  pelief  me." 

Restoring  the  revolver  to  his  pocket,  Frank  left  the 
room  and  the  hotel. 

He  made  his  way  straight  down  the  main  street  of  the 
town  toward  the  office  of  the  Giant  Mine.  Near  the  open- 
ing of  the  mine,  which  was  like  a  great  mouth  in  the  face 
of  the  mountains,  were  numerous  large  wooden  buildings, 
about  and  within  which  everything  was  moving  with  a 


2io  Discovery  of  the  Ring. 

rush  and  a  roar.  A  car  track  ran  down  into  the  mine, 
and  up  from  the  dark  depths  came  carload  after  carload  of 
ore,  the  cars  being  drawn  up  by  means  of  stationary  en- 
gine and  cable. 

As  fast  as  the  cars  came  up,  their  loads  were  dumped 
into  a  great  sluice,  down  which  the  ore  shot  on  its  way 
into  a  building  where  the  ore-crushers  were  hammering 
and  roaring,  driven  by  another  powerful  engine. 

Gangs  of  men  were  busy  everywhere,  and  clouds  of 
smoke  came  from  the  black  chimneys. 

"By  Jingoes !"  muttered  Frank.  "This  town  is  calling 
for  a  railroad  from  the  Tucson  and  Globe  line,  and  it  will 
be  built  if  one  or  two  more  mines  like  the  Giant  is  opened 
up.  Coville  says  he  will  build  it  himself,  if  it  cannot  be 
obtained  in  any  other  way." 

He  paused,  and  watched  the  laborers  a  few  minutes, 
seeing  the  loaded  cars  come  up,  one  after  the  other,  like 
magic,  from  the  dark  mouth  of  the  mine.  It  was  an  in- 
teresting and  entertaining  sight,  but  Frank  did  not  allow 
it  to  divert  him  from  the  attempted  accomplishment  of 
his  purpose. 

Over  the  door  of  a  small  building  he  saw  a  sign  that 
told  him  that  was  the  office  of  the  Giant  Mine.  Toward 
this  building  he  made  his  way. 

Just  before  he  reached  the  building,  the  door  suddenly 
opened,  and  out  shot  a  wild-eyed  Chinaman,  aided  by  a 
kick  from  a  heavy  boot.  The  Celestial  landed  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  quickly  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  ran 
straight  into  Frank's  arms. 

"Gitte  lout!"  squealed  the  frightened  heathen,  as  he 
reeled  backward  and  sat  down  heavily  on  the  ground. 
"Chinee  man  in  bely  gleat  hurry." 

"I  noticed  that,"  laughed  Frank.  "You  seem  to  be  on 
the  jump.  Business  must  be  rushing  with  you." 

"No  blisness — bely  poor  blisness.  No  shirtee  to 
washee;  no  sockee  to  washee.  Melican  mlan  in  Plowder 
Glapee  no  washee  at  all.  Melican  mlan  dirtee  allee  samee 
pigee.  Sing  Lee  no  gitee  blisness ;  have  to  glo  some  odder 
placee." 

"Well,  that  is  rough  on  Sing  Lee." 

''Bely  rough,  you  betee !  No  likee  !  Heap  mlad  !  Go 
roundee  tly  to  git  shirtee  to  washee,  sockee  to  washee, 


Discovery  of  the  Ring.  211 

slomt'ing  to  washee.  No  gitee.  Tellee  Chineeman  to  git- 
tee  lout.  Chineeman  tly  to  tlak  blisness,  gitee  klicked 
lout.  Oh,  Chineeman  heap  mlad,  you  betee !" 

Then  the  excited  Celestial  got  upon  his  feet,  and  danced 
around,  like  a  wild  Indian,  flourishing  his  fists  in  the  air, 
while  his  pigtail  flopped  and  squirmed  and  twisted  like 
a  snake. 

Frank  had  never  seen  a  Chinaman  so  thoroughly 
wrought  up,  and  the  spectacle  was  something  highly  comi- 
cal, so  the  boy  laughed  heartily. 

"Lafee!  Lafee!"  squawked  Sing  Lee,  furiously. 
"Blimebly  you  gitee  slick  you  lafee  slo  mluch !" 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  seemed  to  notice  that  Frank 
wore  a  fancy  shirt,  with  a  rolling  collar,  which  had  been 
starched. 

"Melican  bloy  wearee  whlite  shirtee!"  he  cried.  "Meli- 
can  bloy  mlake  glood  clustomer.  Sing  Lee  washee, 
washee  bely  clean,  starchee  bely  nice." 

"Where  is  your  place  of  business  ?" 

"No  open  placee  ylet ;  jlust  comee  tlo  tlown." 

"Well,  when  you  get  your  place  of  business  open,  I 
may  have  something  for  you  to  do,  if  I  am  here." 

"Blully  bloy !     Me  hugee  you !" 

And  then,  before  Frank  comprehended  his  purpose, 
Sing  Lee  flung  his  arms  round  the  lad's  neck. 

"Break  away !"  shouted  Frank,  as  he  flung  the  Celestial 
off.  "Don't  get  so  affectionate  on  short  acquaintance." 

"Blully  bloy!"  repeated  the  heathen,  grinning  like  an 
ape.  "Sing  Lee  getee  clustom  now;  luck  have  turned, 
you  betee !" 

"Well,  I  am  glad  if  I  have  changed  your  luck,"  said 
Frank;  "but  don't  get  affectionate  again,  or  you  may 
think  you've  been  struck  by  something  harder  than  the  toe 
of  a  boot.  So  long,  Sing,  old  boy.  See  you  later." 

"Alice  light,  Melican  bloy.     Slee  you  later." 

Away  went  the  Celestial,  appearing  very  happy  in  the 
belief  that  his  luck  had  changed. 

"Now  for  it,"  muttered  Frank,  as  he  boldly  approached 
the  office  door,  pushed  it  open,  and  entered. 

Almost  immediately  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
a  man  who  was  industriously  writing  at  a  desk.  This 


212  Discovery  of  the  Ring. 

man  looked  up,  and  Frank  saw  the  cold,  hard  face  of  Wal- 
lace Coville,  whom  he  had  seen  before  on  the  street. 

"Mr.  Coville,  I  believe  ?"  said  the  boy,  respectfully,  hat 
in  hand. 

"Yes,"  was  the  harsh  reply.     "What  do  you  want  ?" 

"I  want  to  talk  with  you  a  few  moments,  if  you  can 
spare  the  time,  sir." 

"My  time  is  valuable." 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it,  sir;  and  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
bothering  you,  but  it  is  concerning  a  matter  of  great  im- 
portance to  me.  If  you  can  give  me  a  few  moments " 

"What  do  you  want  to  say  ?     Be  lively !" 

Coville  turned  round  in  his  chair,  and  faced  the  boy. 
Frank  kept  his  eyes  fairly  on  those  of  the  man,  which 
seemed  to  make  the  latter  somewhat  uneasy,  as  his  own 
eyes  were  restless,  and  his  gaze  did  not  seem  to  rise 
higher  than  Frank's  chin,  save  for  a  fleeting,  furtive 
glance  or  two. 

"I  am  here  to  speak  about  the  Giant  Mine,"  said  the 
lad. 

Coville  moved  uneasily. 

"Well,  what  about  it?" 

"I  have  a  few  questions  to  ask  you  concerning  it," 

"Ask  away.     I'll  answer  them  or  not,  as  I  choose  ?" 

"Were  you  the  original  discoverer  of  this  mine?" 

"I  was  one  of Look  here,  it's  none  of  your  bus- 
iness !  You  have  nerve  to  come  here  and  ask  me  anything 
of  the  sort !  I  just  kicked  out  a  Chinaman  for  being  in- 
solent, and  you  want  to  look  out,  or  you  will  follow  him !" 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  get  so  angry,  Mr. 
Coville,"  said  the  boy,  quietly.  "I  asked  you  a  simple 
question,  and  you  did  not  see  fit  to  answer  it.  That  be- 
ing the  case,  I  will  answer  it  for  you.  You  were  not  one 
of  the  original  discoverers,  but  you  were  brought  here  by 
a  man  who  knew  of  this  mine.  You  had  the  cash  required 
to  open  it  and  work  it  as  it  should  be,  and  so  you  were 
taken  in  as  a  partner.  Where  is  that  man  now  ?" 

There  was  a  black  scowl  on  the  mine  owner's  face,  and 
his  voice  grated  harshly,  as  he  returned : 

"You  seem  to  know  altogether  too  much  for  a  youngster 
of  your  years." 


Discovery  of  the  Ring.  2 1 3 

"Then,  you  acknowledge  that  what  I  have  stated  is  the 
truth?" 

"I  neither  acknowledge  nor  deny  it;  I  decline  to  say 
anything  about  it." 

"That  is  plain  enough,  Mr.  Coville ;  but  there  is  an  old 

saying  that  'murder  will  out,'  and Why,  what's  the 

matter,  sir?" 

For  Wallace  Coville  had  leaped  to  his  feet,  his  face 
livid,  quivering  in  every  limb,  as  if  he  longed  to  fly  at  the 
throat  of  the  boy. 

"Who  are  you?"  hoarsely  demanded  the  man.  "How 
do  you  dare  come  here  and  talk  to  me  in  such  a  manner?" 

"My  name  is  Frank  Merriwell,  and  I  am  the  son  of 
Charles  Merriwell,  who,  if  living,  has  a  claim  on  this 
mine." 

"A  claim  on  this  mine !     Boy,  you  are  crazy !" 

"Not  much !  He  owned  the  precious  ring  that  would 
lead  its  possessor  straight  to  this  spot  and  to  this  mine." 

"The  ring " 

"Yes,  the  ring  that  I  see  upon  your  hand  at  this  mo- 
ment !  It  is  too  late  to  hide  it !  How  came  you  by  that 
ring,  Wallace  Coville?" 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A  DAUNTLESS  BOY. 

The  startled  and  shaken  mine  owner  had  carried  his 
hand  behind  his  back,  in  order  to  conceal  the  ring,  but  it 
was  too  late,  as  the  keen  eyes  of  the  dauntless  boy  had  de- 
tected it. 

Man  and  boy  stood  facing  each  other  in  the  small  office 
room,  one  cowering,  startled,  speechless,  the  other  bold, 
accusing,  aggressive. 

At  that  moment  Wallace  Coville  did  not  seem  like  his 
usual,  harsh,  defiant  self.  He  was  shrinking  before  the 
boy,  with  rage  and  fear  mingling  in  a  look  of  pain  on 
his  face. 

Once  more  Frank  asked  the  question. 

"How  came  you  by  that  ring?" 

"It  is  none  of  your  business !" 

Coville  made  the  retort,  but  he  did  so  weakly,  and  his 
voice  was  far  from  steady. 

"You  dare  not  answer  that  question  truthfully!"  de- 
clared the  lad,  in  a  ringing  tone. 

"Go  away !"  cried  the  man.  "Go  away  from  here ! 
You  will  regret  it  if  you  do  not !" 

"Your  threats  cannot  scare  me.  I  am  here  on  business, 
and  I  mean  business,  as  you  are  certain  to  discover." 

Frank  seemed  to  have  aged  wonderfully  since  entering 
that  office.  His  face  now  was  that  of  a  man,  and  his 
bearing  was  that  of  a  man.  The  mine  owner  began  to  re- 
alize that  he  was  not  dealing  with  an  ordinary  boy,  who 
could  be  easily  browbeaten  and  intimidated. 

"This  ring  is  like  a  hundred  others,"  asserted  the  man, 
with  an  effort. 

"It  is  not !"  was  the  instant  refutement.  "It  is  like  no 
other  ring  in  existence !" 

"Why,  it  is  a  simple  gold  ring,  with  a  black  stone  in  the 
setting." 

"It  is  a  peculiarly  twisted  band  of  gold,  and  on  the 


A  Dauntless  Boy.  215 

black  stone  are  traced  lines  which  form  a  chart.  That 
chart  is  a  guide  to  the  location  of  this  mine." 

Coville  forced  a  harsh  laugh. 

"That's  rot !"  he  declared.  "Don't  come  here  with  such 
stuff.  How  is  it  that  you  know  so  much  about  the  ring  ? 
Bah !  It's  rot,  I  say !" 

"I  dare  you  to  let  me  examine  that  ring." 

"You  must  think  I'm  a  fool !  I  have  stood  too  much 
insolence  from  you  already !  Get  out  at  once,  or " 

"Or  what?" 

"I'll  throw  you  out,  as  I  did  the  Chinaman !" 

He  took  a  step  toward  Frank,  but  the  boy  was  not 
daunted  in  the  least.  Upward  was  flung  one  of  Frank's 
hands,  and  he  cried : 

"Stop !  If  you  dare  to  lay  a  hand  on  me,  you  will  be 
sorry  for  it !" 

"How  melodramatic!"  sneered  the  hard-faced  mine 
owner. 

Still,  he  halted,  and  he  really  seemed  afraid  of  this 
strange  boy,  whose  face  was  set  and  hard  as  if  cut  from 
marble. 

"I  have  a  few  things  to  tell  you,  Wallace  Coville,"  said 
Frank.  "To  begin  with,  that  ring  belongs  to  my  father. 
How  it  came  into  your  possession  I  do  not  know,  but  I 
mean  to  know  in  time — I  will  know !  What  has  become 
of  my  father  I  do  not  know,  but  that  is  another  thing  I 
mean  to  learn.  It  brought  me  to  these  mountains,  and, 
here  I  mean  to  remain  till  the  whole  truth  is  known.  If 
there  has  been  foul  play — if  my  father  has  been  injured 
at  your  hands — I  mean  to  bring  you  to  justice !  You  may 
laugh — you  may  sneer !  I  know  that  I  am  only  a  boy,  but 
I  will  not  be  the  first  boy  to  avenge  a  wrong,  or  bring 
retributive  justice  on  the  head  of  a  villain !" 

Coville  made  a  gesture  of  scorn. 

"You  talk  as  if  you  had  lately  escaped  from  a  lunatic 
asylum.  I  fancy  you  have  been  reading  trashy  stories, 
and  you  are  trying  to  imitate  some  of  the  heroes  you  ad- 
mire." 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  fancy  anything  you  choose,  sir." 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  get  out  of  this  office,  and  you 
had  better  go  while  you  can  get  away  with  a  whole  skin." 

"Don't  be  in  so  much  of  a  hurry.     It  is  plain  you  are 


216  A  Dauntless  Boy. 

very  anxious  to  get  entirely  rid  of  me,  but  I  am  not  easily 
driven." 

"Oh,  well,  take  your  time!  If  you  were  a  man,  I'd 
throw  you  out.  As  it  is,  I  will  not  have  it  said  that  I  as- 
saulted a  boy." 

"That  lets  you  off  easy.  You  might  find  one  boy  who 
would  not  keep  still  and  let  you  throw  him  out.  I  am 
quite  sure  you  have  found  one  you  cannot  bluff,  and  you 
have  begun  to  realize  that  fact." 

Coville  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  pretended  to  resume 
work,  but  his  hand  shook  so  that  he  could  not  write,  and 
he  was  forced  to  keep  his  teeth  set  and  his  back  stiffened. 
He  felt  as  if  he  had  completely  wilted. 

Frank  stood  watching  him,  quite  aware  that  he  was  put- 
ting the  man  to  no  small  amount  of  discomfort.  The  boy 
longed  to  gain  possession  of  that  ring,  but  he  could  see  no 
way  of  succeeding  at  that  time. 

It  is  true  that  Frank  was  also  aware  that  he  must  find 
a  powerful  and  dangerous  enemy  in  the  mine  owner,  who, 
with  his  riches,  held  all  the  advantage  in  any  struggle  that 
might  arise  between  them. 

But  Frank  was  dauntless,  and  he  believed  that,  in  most 
cases,  right  and  justice  triumphed.  In  youth  one  is  likely 
to  believe  this  far  more  fully  than  in  after  years. 

Frank  had  not  accomplished  his  object  in  coming  to 
Wallace  Coville,  but  he  had  made  a  discovery — the  dis- 
covery of  the  ring.  Now  he  felt  sure  something  of  a  seri- 
ous nature  had  happened  to  his  father,  and  Wallace  Co- 
ville knew  what  it  was. 

All  at  once,  the  mine  owner  demanded : 

"Boy,  what  is  your  name  ?" 

"Frank  Merriwell." 

"Merriwell,  Merriwell,"  repeated  Coville,  knitting  his 
brows.  "Why,  I  never  heard  the  name  before." 

Then  Frank  remembered  that  his  father  had  wished 
certain  parties  to  still  believe  him  dead,  and  it  was  likely 
he  had  returned  to  the  West  under  a  fictitious  name. 

In  an  instant,  like  a  flash  of  light,  a  new  thought  came 
to  Frank's  brain. 

Jason  Carter — was  he  not  Charles  Carter  Merriwell  ? 

To  be  sure !  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it !  And  Car- 
ter had  been  Coville's  partner. 


A  Dauntless  Boy.  217 

It  was  plain  sailing  now,  and  everything  began  to  clear 
up  rapidly. 

Coville  had  murdered  his  partner,  and  thus  he  had  come 
into  possession  of  the  ring. 

But  it  had  not  been  merely  to  get  the  ring  that  the  man 
did  the  deed.  In  fact,  it  was  doubtful  if  the  possession 
of  the  ring  had  been  considered. 

Together  they  had  opened  the  Giant  Mine,  Coville  fur- 
nishing the  capital.  He  had  seen  that  the  mine  would 
make  one  man  enormously  rich,  and  he  had  longed  to  own 
it  wholly,  entirely.  Although  he  might  never  have  seen 
the  mine  but  for  Carter,  he  did  not  take  that  into  consid- 
eration. He  had  thought  that  it  was  not  right  for  Carter 
to  lay  back  and  risk  nothing  in  working  the  mine  and  re- 
ceive one-half  of  the  profits.  His  greed  had  made  him 
desire  everything,  and  it  had  led  him  to  commit  a  dark  and 
terrible  deed. 

Frank  shuddered  as  he  thought  what  the  fate  of  his 
father  possibly  was. 

"I  will  avenge  him !" 

The  words  seemed  to  run  through  the  lad's  head.  Never 
before  in  all  his  life  had  he  experienced  such  a  revengeful 
feeling.  It  was  so  strong  and  overpowering  that  he 
himself  was  awed  by  it. 

Gradually  an  expression  of  relief  had  come  to  the  repel- 
lent face  of  the  agitated  mine  owner. 

"I  never  heard  the  name  of  Merriwell  before,"  he  re- 
peated. "You  are  barking  up  the  wrong  tree,  young 
man." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  firmly  retorted  Frank.  "I  presume 
you  have  heard  the  name  of  Carter  ?" 

"Jason  Carter  was  my  partner." 

"Exactly.  My  father's  name  was  Charles  Carter  Mer- 
riwell." 

"What  of  that?" 

"I  am  satisfied  that  Jason  Carter,  whose  mysterious  dis- 
appearance I  believe  you  can  explain  if  you  wish  to  do  so, 
was  none  other  than  my  father." 

The  boy  saw  a  queer  look  pass  across  the  face  of  the 
mine  owner. 

"Why  should  your  father  be  known  under  any  but  his 
right  name?"  asked  Coville. 


218  A  Dauntless  Boy. 

"Because  he  had  foes — deadly  foes.  There  were  men 
who  thirsted  for  his  life — men  who  longed  to  kill  him, 
rob  him  of  that  ring,  obtain  this  mine !" 

"That  sounds  more  than  ever  like  the  wild  fancy  of 
some  story-teller's  brain." 

"It  is  true,  no  matter  how  it  may  sound." 

"Well,  I  know  nothing  of  any  one  but  Jason  Carter. 
You  imagine  he  was  your  father,  or  pretend  to ;  but  I  have 
no  reason  to  think  so.  He  never  told  me  anything  of  him- 
self or  his  affairs.  There  was  an  agreement  between  us 
that  when  one  died  the  mine  was  to  fall  to  the  other." 

"What  kind  of  an  agreement  ?" 

"A  written,  signed,  and  witnessed  agreement." 

"You  have  it  now  ?" 

"I  have." 

"Will  you  let  me  see  it?" 

"No." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  do  not  care  to  do  so.  If  it  ever  becomes 
necessary,  I  can  and  will  produce  it,  in  proving  my  right 
as  sole  claimant  to  and  owner  of  the  Giant  Mine." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Wallace  Coville ;  I  will  not  trouble  you 
more.  However,  before  I  go,  I  will  tell  you  that  a  cor- 
rect and  accurate  chart  was  made  from  the  lines  on  the 
stone  of  that  ring.  That  chart  I  have  in  my  possession. 
It  may  be  valueless ;  it  may  be  worth  a  great  deal.  You 
will  hear  more  from  me.  Good-day." 

Frank  walked  swiftly  on  his  way  back  to  the  hotel.  He 
did  not  see  Wallace  Coville  come  to  the  door  of  the  office 
and  make  a  signal  to  a  big,  red-whiskered  man,  who  was 
loafing  near  at  hand,  nor  did  he  observe  that,  after  Coville 
had  spoken  a  few  words  to  this  man,  the  ruffian  also  has- 
tened toward  the  New  York  Hotel. 

The  boy's  face  was  hard  and  set.  He  was  fully  convinced 
that  his  father  had  been  foully  dealt  with,  and  that  the 
present  owner  of  the  Giant  Mine  had  been  the  instigator  of 
the  deed. 

Believing  this,  Frank  saw  before  him  the  task  of  learn- 
ing all  the  black  truth,  and  bringing  the  guilty  wretch  to 
justice. 

"He  shall  not  escape !" 


A  Dauntless  Boy.  219 

Those  were  the  words  which  Frank  repeated  over  and 
over  to  himself. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  the  red-whis- 
kered ruffian  came  up  behind,  ran  heavily  against  him,  and 
$ell  aside,  with  a  snarling  exlamation. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Frank,  quietly. 

"Oh,  yer  does,  does  yer?"  grated  the  tough  citizen. 
*'Wa'al,  that  don't  go  with  me,  kid,  unless  yer  gits  down 
on  yer  knees  an'  beseeches  it  most  humble  like." 

In  a  moment  Frank  realized  that  he  had  a  hard  charac- 
ter to  deal  with,  and  that  the  man  was  looking  for  trouble. 

The  boy  quickly  faced  about.  Just  then  he  was  not  in 
a  mood  to  be  bluffed. 

"You  want  me  to  get  down  on  my  knees  and  ask  your 
pardon  ?" 

"That's  whatever  I  does,  an'  yer'd  better  be  about  it 
derned  lively !  You  hear  me  chirp !" 

"What  will  you  do  if  I  do  not  get  down  on  my  knees  to 
you?" 

"Do?  Why,  dern  yer  skin,  I'll  chaw  yer  up — I'll 
make  a  lunch  off  yer !  You  ain't  big  enough  fer  a  squar' 
meal !" 

"Then,  you  had  better  begin  by  taking  a  bite  at  once !" 

"What?" 

"I  say  you  had  better  begin  by  taking  a  bite  at  once." 

"You  won't  git  down  on  yer  marrer-bones  ?" 

"Nary  git,  my  strawberry  blond !" 

"Whoop!"  howled  the  ruffian,  going  through  a  wild 
war-dance,  as  he  rolled  up  the  sleeves  of  his  woolen  shirt. 
"Strawberry  blond !  Wow !  Give  me  room !  I'm  going 
ter  scatter  yer  all  over  ther  street !" 

"Sail  in." 

Being  a  character  reader,  Frank  knew  the  big  ruffian 
was  a  coward  at  heart,  for  all  of  his  bluster  and  fierce  ap- 
pearance. He  knew  the  man  could  be  easily  and  quickly 
cowed  if  the  trick  were  done  in  the  proper  manner. 

And  he  had  not  forgotten  the  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

"Yer  don't  know  me !"  roared  the  tough,  as  he  spat  on 
his  hands. 

"I  haven't  that  misfortune,  I  am  happy  to  say." 

"Woosh !  Misfortune !  But  you  do  want  to  be  chawed 
up!  I'll  tell  yer  who  I  am.  I'm  Ben  Bolt,  ther  feller 


22O  A  Dauntless  Boy. 

what  ther  song  was  writ  about,  only  some  chump  twisted 
ther  words  round  ther  wrong  way.  They  wuz  all  about 
me  ter  begin  with,  an'  this  wuz  ther  way  they  run : 

"Does  yer  remember  Jim  Corbett,  Ben  Bolt — 

Jim  Corbett,  as  yer  done  up  so  brown? 
He  thought  he  wuz  a  dandy,  Ben  Bolt; 
But  yer  put  him  ter  sleep  in  one  roun'." 

"You  must  be  a  regular  slugger." 

"Oh,  I  am ;  I'm  a  terror  on  trucks.  When  I  gits  ter 
goin',  you  want  to  clear  ther  road  an'  stan'  from  under." 

"You  alarm  me." 

"Then,  git  down  on  yer  marrer-bones,  an'  beg  my  par- 
don instanter !" 

"I  couldn't  think  of  it,  Ben  Bolt." 

"Then,  I'll  put  yer  down !" 

He  made  a  grab  for  Frank's  neck.  The  boy  dodged, 
and  then,  quick  as  a  flash,  standing  on  the  step  in  a  po- 
sition that  brought  him  on  a  level  with  the  desperado,  he 
brought  round  his  right  fist  with  a  heavy,  swinging  mo- 
tion, landing  fairly  on  Ben  Bolt's  jaw. 

Never  in  all  his  life  had  the  fellow  been  more  aston- 
ished, for  that  blow  knocked  him  flat  in  the  dust.  He  sat 
up  quickly,  staring  at  the  boy  in  amazement,  gasping : 

"Say,  who  threw  something?" 

"Nobody." 

"Did  you  hit  me  with  a  chunk  of  quartz  ?" 

"No." 

"What  did  yer  hev  in  yer  hand  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"An'  yer  knocked  me  down  with  yer  bare  fist  ?" 

"I  did." 

"I  don't  believe  it!" 

"Come  again." 

"Dern  me  ef  I  don't,  an'  I'll  paralyze  yer !" 

The  ruffian  scrambled  to  his  feet;  but,  at  this  moment, 
a  solemn-looking,  long-haired  man  came  down  the  steps, 
having  witnessed  what  had  passed  between  the  man  and 
boy.  This  person  was  dressed  in  black  clothes,  and  wore 
a  long,  black  coat. 

"Peace,  brother,  peace,"  he  said,  addressing  Ben  Bolt 
"Attempt  not  to  molest  this  gentle  lad." 


A  Dauntless  Boy.  221 

"Gentle  lad!"  snorted  the  ruffian.  "Did  yer  see  him 
soak  me  ?" 

"I  did,  brother ;  but  you  provoked  him  to  wrath.  I  am 
sure  he  would  not  have  done  so  otherwise.  You  know  the 
Good  Book  saith  ye  shall  be  long  suffering  and  slow  unto 
anger." 

"Whoop!  What's  ther  matter  with  yer?  Be  you  a 
gospel  sharp  ?" 

"I  am  an  humble  but  unworthy  servant  in  the  vineyard, 
doing  the  best  I  can,  in  my  poor  way,  to  bring  sinners  unto 
repentance  before  it  is  everlastingly  too  late." 

"Wa-al,  you've  struck  a  right  bad  town  fer  your  bus- 
iness, an'  I  advise  yer  ter  git  out  instanter." 

"I  go  wherever  I  am  called." 

"Wa-al,  yer  ain't  got  no  call  ter  meddle  with  this  yere 
difficulty,  so  git  out !" 

"Peace,  brother — peace  once  again.  Strife  and  conten- 
tion are  distasteful  to  me,  and  I  entreat  you  to  restrain 
your  angry  passions." 

"Git  out,  parson !  That  kind  of  guff  don't  go  in  this 
yere  place,  as  you'll  right  soon  find  out.  Ther  boys  don't 
care  fer  preachin',  an'  they  won't  hev  it." 

"Oh,  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  brother.  At  any  rate,  I 
have  decided  to  preach  in  the  Snow  Flake  saloon  at  nine 
o'clock  this  evening,  and  I  trust  I  may  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  among  those  there  assembled." 

"In  ther  Snow  Flake  ?  Wow !  Has  Andy  Barter  said 
yer  could  preach  thar  ?" 

"Who  is  Andy  Barter,  brother?" 

"He's  ther  gent  as  runs  ther  Snow  Flake,  an'  he's  hot 
stuff,  yer  bet  yer  boots  !" 

"I  have  not  asked  Brother  Barter  anything  about  it,  but 
I  go  where  I  am  called." 

"Wa-al,  ye'll  go  whar  you're  sent  in  case  you  tries  ter 
spout  gospel  in  ther  Snow  Flake,  an'  thet'll  be  right  out  of 
ther  door  on  ther  toe  of  Andy's  boot." 

Quite  a  crowd  had  now  gathered  around,  and  the  rough 
men  were  grinning  at  the  strange  parson,  and  making  de- 
risive remarks,  none  of  which  the  man  seemed  to  hear. 

Frank  had  remained  quietly  on  the  steps,  rather  amused 
by  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 


222  A  Dauntless  Boy. 

Now,  however,  the  ruffian  again  turned  on  the  boy, 
snarling : 

"Yer  hit  me  by  accident,  an'  I  made  a  misstep  and  tum- 
bled down ;  but  now  I'll  hammer  yer  face !" 

"You  had  better  not  try  it,"  warned  Frank,  calmly. 

"Bah!" 

Ben  Bolt  started  to  strike  the  lad,  but  he  stopped  sud- 
denly, with  his  fist  uplifted,  staring  straight  into  the  muz- 
zle of  a  revolver. 

The  revolver  was  held  in  Frank's  hand,  and  it  was 
steady  and  firm  as  a  rock. 

"You  are  a  ruffian  and  a  bruiser,"  said  the  lad,  "but  this 
makes  me  your  match.  By  sheer  brute  strength  you 
might  be  able  to  beat  me  senseless.  However,  you  will 
not  be  given  the  opportunity,  for  I'll  shoot  the  roof  of 
your  head  off  if  you  move  toward  me  another  inch !" 

Ben  Bolt  glared,  but  he  saw  that  the  youth  meant  ex- 
actly what  he  said. 

"Be  careful  with  the  deadly  weapon,  my  young 
brother !"  cried  the  parson,  quickly.  "You  are  commanded 
not  to  shed  human  blood." 

"Self-defense  is  the  first  law  of  nature." 

"Strife  and  contention  I  abhor." 

"Then,  you  have  come  to  a  poor  place  for  your  peace  of 
mind." 

"I  believe  in  avoiding  trouble  in  all  cases." 

"There  are  times  when  it  is  impossible,  and  this  seems 
to  be  one  of  them." 

Ben  Bolt  was  grinding  his  teeth  and  looking  as  if  he 
longed  to  eat  Frank,  but  the  boy  did  not  take  his  eyes  off 
the  ruffian  for  a  second. 

In  the  meantime,  another  ruffianly  character  came  out 
of  the  hotel,  and,  seeing  how  matters  stood,  stole  down 
quietly  behind  the  lad. 

Before  Frank  was  aware  that  another  person  was  close 
behind  him,  the  fellow  reached  over  the  boy's  shoulder, 
clutched  the  revolver,  and  twisted  it  out  of  his  hand,  say- 
ing: 

"Let  me  hiv  thot  plaything,  me  b'y;  it's  hurrut  ye 
moight  get  wid  it." 

Frank  was  disarmed. 

"Now  I'll  hammer  yer !"  howled  Ben  Bolt. 


A  Dauntless  Boy.  223 

"Hold!"  commanded  the  parson.  "There  must  be  no 
contention !" 

"Go  to  thunder!"  snarled  the  ruffian.  "I'm  goin'  ter 
knock  ther  stuffin'  out  of  ther  kid !" 

"An'  Oi'll  see  thot  yee  does  it,  Binny,  me  lad,"  said  the 
Irishman  who  had  disarmed  Frank. 

"Lo  and  behold,  this  is  too  much  for  frail  mortal  to  en- 
dure!" sighed  the  parson.  "Human  flesh  is  prone  to 
weakness,  and  all  humanity  is  sorely  tried  by  temptations. 
I  can't  stand  idly  by  and  see  the  weak  assailed  by  the 
strong,  even  though  I  may  grievously  err.  If  there  is 
going  to  be  a  scrap,  I'll  have  to  be  in  it,  even  though  it 
may  cause  me  hours  of  remorseful  repentance." 

And  the  peaceful  parson  began  to  remove  his  coat,  in  a 
very  businesslike  manner. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A  GENTLEMAN   FROM    FRANCE. 

Both  ruffians  stared  in  astonishment,  and  the  crowd 
roared  with  laughter. 

"Go  it,  old  socks !"  cried  one. 

"Give  him  gospel !"  adjured  another. 

"Quote  Scripture  to  him!"  advised  a  third. 

"Begorra,"  cried  the  Irish  ruffian,  in  astonishment,  "Oi 
belave  th'  praste  manes  ter  foight !" 

"I  am  one  of  the  most  peaceful  members  of  the  spotless 
flock,"  declared  the  old  parson,  "but,  as  I  observed  before, 
human  flesh  is  prone  to  weakness,  and  I  cannot  remain 
idly  at  hand  and  see  the  weak  beset  by  the  strong." 

"Get  out !"  snarled  Ben  Bolt,  in  an  ugly  manner.  "Ef 
you  dip  in  hyar,  you'll  wish  yer  hadn't !" 

"It  is  possible,  brother,  that  you  may  wish  I  hadn't." 

The  parson  was  now  ready  for  business,  and  he  squared 
away  at  the  big  ruffian  in  a  manner  that  quickly  convinced 
Frank  he  knew  something  of  the  "manly  art." 

" Wa-al,  I'll  knock  ther  corners  off  yer  in  one  punch !" 
cried  Ben  Bolt. 

He  made  a  rush  for  the  parson. 

Spat — smash — thud ! 

A  howl  of  delight  went  up  from  the  spectators,  for  the 
parson  had  ducked  under  Ben's  arm,  come  up  behind  the 
fellow's  shoulder,  struck  him  twice  with  astonishing  swift- 
ness, and  dropped  him  like  a  log  in  the  dust. 

More  than  one  present  declared  it  the  prettiest  piece  of 
work  they  had  ever  seen. 

"Mike !  Mike !"  thickly  bellowed  the  man  who  had  been 
knocked  down;  "jump  in  hyar!  Don't  let  'em  kick  me!" 

"Begorra,  it's  no  nade  thot  wan  has  to  do  innything  av 
th'  koind,"  retorted  the  Irishman.  "Th'  spalpane  stroikes 
harruder  thin  a  mule  can  kick.  Ye  may  have  him.  Oi'll 
take  th'  b'y." 


A  Gentleman  from  France.          225 

Then  Mike  made  a  rush  for  Frank,  whom  he  expected 
to  take  by  surprise  and  easily  overcome. 

Frank  was  on  the  watch  for  just  such  a  move,  and  he 
met  Mike  more  than  halfway. 

The  Irishman  was  short  and  thickset,  rather  slow  of 
movement,  and  strong. 

He  tried  to  clutch  the  boy,  but  he  grasped  no  more  than 
empty  air.  Frank  was  not  there,  and,  the  next  moment, 
Mike  felt  himself  flying  through  the  air. 

Frank  had  stooped  low  down,  caught  Mike  near  the 
knees,  and  flung  the  Irishman  fairly  over  his  head. 

The  astounded  Irishman  struck  on  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders, fell  at  full  length  on  his  back,  and  lay  there,  gazing1 
blankly  up  at  the  sky,  muttering : 

"It's  an  illigant,  foine  lot  av  shtars  ye  are,  to  be  sure! 
Oi  nivver  saw  so  minny  before  in  th'  daytoime." 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  boy  ?"  howled  some  one  in 
the  crowd  of  spectators. 

"He's  all  right !"  roared  a  stentorian  voice. 

Then  a  cheer  of  delight  went  up. 

As  for  the  parson,  he  was  urging  Ben  Bolt  to  get  up. 

"Arise,  brother,"  he  entreated;  "I  never  like  to  do  a 
thing  by  halves,  and,  now  that  I  have  been  led  into  this 
unseemly  strife,  it  is  my  earnest  and  sincere  desire  to  pol- 
ish you  off  properly." 

"It  wuz  a  mistake,"  mumbled  Ben.  "You  can't  do  it 
again." 

Then  he  got  upon  his  feet,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the 
parson,  who  made  no  offer  to  take  an  advantage  of  him  as 
he  was  getting  up. 

"I'll  do  yer  this  yar  time,  Old  Gospel !"  snarled  the  ruf- 
fian. 

He  approached  the  parson,  in  a  manner  that  plainly  in- 
dicated he  had  learned  to  be  cautious.  The  slender  man 
in  black  calmly  awaited  the  fellow's  attack. 

Of  a  sudden,  the  bruiser  closed  in,  striking  heavily  at 
the  parson's  face.  It  was  intended  for  a  knockout  blow, 
and  such  it  would  have  been  if  it  had  landed. 

The  parson  guarded,  and  countered  with  his  left. 

Ben  Bolt's  fist  was  thrust  upward  into  the  air,  and  an 
opening  was  made,  through  which  the  parson  struck,  with 
a  swinging,  round-shoulder  movement. 


226          A  Gentleman  from  France. 

It  seemed  as  if  something-  broke  when  the  hard  knuckles 
of  the  man  in  black  were  planted  under  the  bully's  ear. 

Down  dropped  Ben  Bolt,  like  a  lifeless  thing,  fairly 
knocked  out. 

Mike,  the  Irishman,  had  sat  up  in  time  to  see  this,  and 
he  now  said : 

"It's  a  mistake  we  made,  Oi'm  thinkin',  fer  thase  gin- 
tlemin  are  not  in  our  class.  Oi  don't  care  fer  thot  koind 
av  medicine,  an'  so  Oi'll  jist  kape  Binny  company." 

Then  he  deliberately  lay  down  in  the  dust  once  more. 

"The  trouble  is  over,"  shouted  somebody  in  the  crowd. 

At  this  moment,  Frank  heard  a  familiar  voice  call : 

"Vrankie !" 

He  looked  up,  and  saw  Hans  leaning  out  of  a  window 
above. 

"Uf  you  don'd  vant  some  hellup  in  dot  row,  Vrankie, 
why  ain'd  you  said  so?"  demanded  the  Dutch  boy,  re- 
proachfully. "Vait  an  hour  und  I  peen  down  und  stood 
pehind  you." 

"You're  too  late,"  laughed  Frank. 

The  delighted  and  admiring  crowd  flocked  around  the 
boy  and  the  parson,  and,  before  the  two  could  comprehend 
the  intention  of  the  mob,  they  were  lifted  on  broad  shoul- 
ders and  carried  toward  the  Snow  Flake  saloon. 

There  was  no  way  of  escaping,  and  so  they  submitted  as 
gracefully  as  possible. 

Right  into  the  saloon  they  were  carried,  and  twenty  men 
ordered  drinks  for  the  victors. 

"Brothers,"  called  the  parson,  "I  fully  appreciate  the 
kindness  of  your  hearts,  but  I  never  look  on  the  whisky 
when  it  is  red,  for  it  biteth  like  a  serpent  and  stingeth  like 
an  adder." 

"I  am  with  you,  parson,"  said  Frank.  "I  never  drink, 
under  any  circumstances." 

"Stick  to  that,  my  boy.  'Wine  is  a  mocker,  strong 
drink  is  raging,  and  whosoever  is  deceived  thereby  is  not 
wise.' " 

The  crowd  was  greatly  disappointed. 

"We  want  ter  drink  ter  ther  health  o'  ther  swiftest  par- 
son an'  ther  smartest  kid  we  ever  saw,"  said  one. 

"Then,  drink  in  water,"  said  the  parson,  "and  we  will 


A  Gentleman  from  France.          227 

drink  with  you.  Come,  brothers  and  friends,  surprise 
your  stomachs  and  satisfy  us  by  drinking  water." 

"Water  ?"  cried  one  old  bummer,  with  a  very  red  nose. 
"What  is  water,  anyhow  ?" 

"I  can't  drink  that,"  protested  another.  "It'll  make  me 
sick." 

"I  saw  the  whole  affair,"  said  Andy  Barter,  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  saloon,  "and,  if  the  parson  and  the  kid  say 
water,  water  goes.  Every  blamed  galoot  hyar  drinks 
water  with  the  parson  and  the  kid.  Hold  on,  thar,  Red- 
nose  Jerry !"  he  called,  sharply,  whipping  a  revolver  out 
from  beneath  the  bar  and  covering  an  old  bummer,  who 
was  hurrying  toward  the  door.  "You  can't  escape.  Once 
more  in  your  life  you'll  have  to  stand  up  and  take  water !" 

"Well,  if  ther  stuff  kills  me,  you'll  have  to  pay  the 
funeral  expenses,"  whimpered  the  bummer. 

Andy  Barter  and  his  barkeeper  quickly  filled  a  long  row 
of  glasses  with  water,  and  every  person  present  was  re- 
quired to  take  a  glass. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Frank  observed  a  striking- 
looking  man,  who  stood  upon  a  box  and  called  the  atten- 
tion of  the  crowd  by  proposing  a  toast. 

This  man  was  tall  and  finely  formed.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  black  velvet  suit,  on  which  were  buttons  of  gold.  His 
hat,  a  soft,  fashionable  affair,  was  encircled  by  a  gold 
cord.  On  his  feet  he  wore  wine-colored  tan  shoes.  His 
handsome  negligee  shirt  had  a  wide,  starched  collar,  be- 
neath which  a  tasty  silk  tie  was  passed  round  and  knotted. 
In  the  knot  sparkled  a  diamond  that  contained  a  thousand 
colored  fires.  A  gold  chain  was  strung  across  his  vest, 
and  another  diamond  gleamed  from  the  one  ring  he  wore 
upon  his  left  hand. 

But  it  was  the  man's  face  that  attracted  Frank's  atten- 
tion. The  flesh  bore  a  cold,  deathly  pallor,  like  marble,  as 
if  this  man  had  long  been  confined  in  some  dark  dungeon. 
His  eyes  were  dark  and  piercing,  alive  with  the  fires  of 
youth,  but  his  long  hair  was  snowy  white,  as,  likewise, 
were  his  mustache  and  imperial. 

A  low  cry  of  wonder  was  forced  from  Frank's  lips,  as 
he  stared  at  this  striking  figure. 

"That  face!"  whispered  the  boy  to  himself.     "I  have 


228          A  Gentleman  from  France. 

seen  it  before !  It  is  the  face  of No,  no !  I  must 

be  mistaken !" 

"Genteelmen,"  said  the  stranger  on  the  box,  "I  see  ze 
fight.  Eet  was  wondaerful — eet  was  gr-r-reat !  Genteel- 
men,  I  am  a  strangaire  in  your  countaree,  but  een  my  own 
countaree,.in  France,  I  sometime  see  some  wondareful 
things.  Nevaire  have  I  seen  ze  bettaire  fight  zan  zat.  I 
am  a  offizare  in  ze  French  armee — I  hole  ze  commissione 
of  marshal.  My  name  ees  Fabian  Danglar.  Genteelmen, 
Marshal  Danglar  propose  to  you  ze  toast.  Here  to  ze 
health  of  ze  parzone ;  may  he  be  successful  in  ze  conver- 
sione  of  souls.  And  here  to  ze  health  of  Frank  Merri- 
well ;  may  he  solve  ze  mysteree  zat  breeng  him  here — may 
he  learn  ze  secret  zat  ees  buried  in  ze  black  depfti  of  ze 
ground.  Drink  heartee." 

Frank  was  astonished.  This  white-haired,  marble- 
faced,  fire-eyed  Frenchman  knew  him,  knew  his  name, 
knew  more. 

What  did  he  mean  by  speaking  of  a  secret  buried  in  the 
heart  of  the  ground  ? 

The  question  flashed  through  Frank's  mind  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

For  the  briefest  space  of  time  the  boy  was  dazed,  but 
he  swiftly  recovered,  and  then  he  drank  with  the  rest. 

Jerry,  the  old  toper,  pretended  to  drink,  but  he  managed 
to  deftly  toss  the  water  on  the  floor,  and  he  was  heard  to 
mutter : 

"I  don't  take  no  chances — I  don't.  There  ain't  no 
knowing  how  long  I'd  be  sick  if  I  took  a  drink  of  water, 
and  I  might  drop  dead." 

"Now,  dear  friends  in  sin,"  said  the  parson,  "I  wish  to 
announce  that  I  will  speak  a  few  words  of  spiritual  com- 
fort in  this  place  this  evening  at  nine  o'clock,  and  I  hope 
to  see  you  all  present." 

Andy  Barter  gasped. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  call  nerve!"  he  cried,  in  a  dazed 
way.  Then  he  thumped  the  bar  with  his  fist,  and  de- 
clared :  "But  it  goes,  you  bet !  A  parson  that  can  fight 
the  way  this  one  can  oughter  have  a  chance  to  talk  gospel, 
and  I'm  honored  at  his  selecting  my  saloon.  If  any  of  my 
regular  customers  stay  away  this  night,  I  shall  consider 
it  a  personal  insult." 


A  Gentleman  from  France.          229 

"We'll  all  come !"  cried  the  crowd. 

The  parson  expressed  his  thankfulness,  and  then,  beg- 
ging them  to  excuse  him,  hastily  left  the  saloon. 

Frank  would  have  followed  the  parson,  but  he  wished 
to  have  a  word  with  Fabian  Danglar,  for  which  purpose 
he  lingered. 

\  The  Frenchman  soon  came  toward  the  boy,  and  Frank 
If  elt  his  heart  rising  into  his  mouth,  as  the  man  approached. 
He  seemed  fascinated  and  spellbound  by  those  wondrous, 
black  eyes  and  that  deathly-white  face. 

"Mistaire  Merriwell,"  said  Danglar,  with  the  polished 
politeness  that  is  natural  to  a  Frenchman,  "you  are  a  won- 
daire  for  a  boyee.  Zat  treek  you  do  when  you  knock  ze 
beeg  ruffian  down  was  goode,  but  zat  ozare  treek  you  do 
when  you  t'row  ze  Ireeshman  ovare  your  head  was  vera 
much  bettaire.  And  you  do  not  dreenk  ze  whiskee  ?  Ah, 
zat  ees  goode!  Nevaire  touch  ze  whiskee,  for  eet  have 
ruined  vera  many  men." 

The  face,  the  voice,  the  eyes — all  seemed  strangely  fa- 
miliar to  Frank ;  but  still  the  boy  could  not  remember  that 
he  had  ever  met  Marshal  Danglar  before  that  day.  There 
was  something  fascinating  about  the  man,  something  awe- 
some. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  compliments,"  said  the  lad,  with 
an  effort. 

Danglar  waved  his  hand,  with  a  graceful  movement. 

"I  speak  ze  trute,  Mistaire  Merriwell — I  always  speak 
ze  trute.  Sometime  my  word  they  be  not  so  pleasant  to 
somebodee." 

"How  is  it  that  you  know  me  ?"  questioned  Frank. 

The  man  smiled,  in  a  mysterious  way. 

"I  know  manee  people  zat  do  nevare  know  me." 

"It  almost  seems  that  I  have  seen  you  before.  Your 
face,  your  voice,  and  your  eyes  seem  strangely  familiar." 

"Zat  may  be  ze  trute.  Do  you  believe  in  ze  transmigra- 
tion of  ze  soul  ?  Do  you  believe  zat  everybodee  have  live 
manee  lives  before  ze  one  zey  live  now  ?  I  believe  in  zat, 
Mistaire  Merriwell.  I  even  remember  some  of  ze  things 
what  I  do  when  I  live  some  ozare  life  in  some  ozare  body, 
before  I  have  zis  bodee  zat  you  see  now.  Maybe  we  meet 
zen,  and  we  remembaire  each  ozare." 

From  any  other  man,  these  words  might  have  seemed 


230          A  Gentleman  from  France. 

ridiculous  to  the  boy ;  but  there  was  something  about  Fa- 
bian Danglar  that  made  them  strangely  impressive,  and 
Frank  shivered  a  little,  although  he  forced  a  laugh. 

"I  scarcely  think  that  is  why  I  remember  you,"  he  said. 
"It  is  possible  I  do  not  remember  you  at  all ;  it  may  be 
mere  fancy." 

Danglar's  eyes  seemed  piercing  him  through  and 
through,  and  Frank  fancied  they  could  read  his  secret 
thoughts. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  eet  ees  ze  fancee.  You  do  not  be- 
lieve ze  t'ings  zat  I  believe,  Mistaire  Merriwell." 

"You  knew  my  name." 

"I  found  it  out  at  ze  hotel." 

"You  spoke  of  something  strange." 

"What  was  zat?" 

"Of  a  mystery  I  came  to  Powder  Gap  to  solve." 

"Zat  ees  trute." 

"And  of  a  secret  hidden  in  the  ground." 

"Oui,  I  may  say  zat." 

"What  did  you  mean  by  it?" 

Danglar  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Ask  me  somet'ing  easee." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  cannot  tell  ?" 

"Sometime  I  say  t'ings  zat  I  do  not  know  ze  meaning 
of  myself.  I  do  not  know  zat  I  am  going  to  say  zem,  but 
when  I  speak  zey  come  out." 

"You  surely  knew  what  you  were  saying  then  ?" 

"Perhaps." 

"You  do  not  deny  it  ?" 

"I  deny  nottings,  Mistaire  Merriwell." 

Frank  was  more  puzzled  than  ever,  and  utterly  baffled 
by  the  man's  manner.  He  felt  a  rising  anger  and  impa- 
tience, but  he  suppressed  them,  and  held  them  in  check. 

"You  will  not  tell  me  what  you  meant,  sir  ?" 

"You  will  find  out  for  yourself  in  ze  course  of  time." 

"Perhaps  so." 

"You  are  pritee  sure  to  do  zat,  for  you  do  what  you  try 
to  do.  You  have  ze  way  of  always  coming  out  at  ze  top 
in  anyt'ing.  But  I  have  to  warn  you." 

"Warn  me?" 

"Oui,  Mistaire  Merriwell." 

"Of  what?" 


A  Gentleman  from  France.          231 

"Dangare — vera  great  dangare." 

"What  kind  of  danger?" 

"Dangare  of  your  life." 

"How  is  that?" 

"You  have  in  zis  place  one  enemee — he  hate  you,  and, 
zough  you  be  one  boyee,  he  fear  you  at  ze  same  time.  Eet 
was  heem  zat  set  ze  beeg  ruffaine  on  you.  Zat  ruffame 
was  to  pound  you  teel  you  was  keeled  by  ze  accident  some 
way." 

"You  must  mean  Wallace  Coville?" 

Danglar  said  nothing. 

"Are  you  sure  he  sent  the  ruffian  after  me?"  eagerly 
asked  the  boy. 

"I  am  sure  your  enemee  do  zat." 

"I  can  have  no  other  enemy  in  Powder  Gap,  so  he  must 
be  the  one." 

"Zen,  look  out  for  heem ;  zat  ees  all.  Bimeby  I  see  you 
again  latare." 

Politely  bidding  Frank  adieu,  the  strange  Frenchman 
left  the  saloon. 

Wondering  at  what  he  had  heard,  the  boy  soon  followed 
Danglar,  although  the  crowd  would  have  kept  him  longer. 

Frank  was  supplied  with  plenty  of  food  for  reflection. 
He  still  felt  that  he  had  seen  the  Frenchman  somewhere 
before  this  meeting  in  Powder  Gap,  but  where,  or  when,  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  tell. 

There  was  something  awe-inspiring  about  the  man  with 
the  white  hair,  marble  face,  and  coal-black  eyes,  and  yet 
Frank  felt  drawn  toward  him  in  a  most  mysterious  and 
unaccountable  manner. 

It  was  certainly  wonderful  that  the  man  knew  so  much 
about  Frank,  and  the  boy  felt  that  his  warning  was  to  be 
heeded. 

Wallace  Coville  was  rich  and  powerful,  and  he  was 
certainly  a  bad  man  for  an  enemy. 

That  Coville  had  sent  Ben  Bolt  to  pick  a  quarrel  with 
Frank  was  something  the  lad  had  not  suspected,  but,  now, 
he  did  not  doubt  it  in  the  least. 

It  was  plainly  Coville's  object  to  drive  the  lad  from 
Powder  Gap,  or  fix  him  so  he  could  never  make  any  trou- 
"Dlesome  investigation  of  the  mystery  surrounding  the  dis- 
appearance of  Jason  Carter. 


232          A  Gentleman  from  France. 

Knowing  this  beyond  a  doubt,  Frank  was  more  than 
ever  determined  to  know  the  entire  truth,  and  bring  Co- 
ville  to  justice. 

Then  he  thought  of  Danglar's  words  concerning  a  "se- 
cret hidden  in  the  black  depths  of  the  earth." 

"The  Giant  Mine,"  thought  the  boy.  "The  secret  must 
be  hidden  there,  and  I  will  find  a  way  to  bring  it  from  the 
black  depth  to  the  open  light  of  day." 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 
THE  PROFESSOR'S  TROUBLES. 

The  peculiar  parson  had  registered  at  the  New  York 
Hotel  as  "P.  C.  Full,"  and  it  did  not  take  the  citizens  of 
Powder  Gap  long  to  fall  into  the  way  of  calling  him  "Par- 
son Peaceful." 

Long  before  nine  o'clock  that  evening  the  entire  town 
had  heard  of  the  encounter  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  there 
was  a  general  desire  to  see  the  queer  preacher  and  the  re- 
markable boy  who  had  easily  whipped  two  of  the  worst 
ruffians  in  the  Santa  Catarina  Mountains. 

There  had  been  a  sudden  influx  of  noteworthy  stran- 
gers, of  whom  Frank  did  not  attract  the  least  attention, 
being  pointed  out  and  admiringly  inspected  wherever  he 
went. 

For  all  of  his  sudden  notoriety,  the  parson  conducted 
himself  with  modesty,  being  quite  unassuming  and  lamb- 
like in  manner.  Looking  at  him,  as  he  strolled  pensively 
through  the  town,  no  one  could  have  fancied  he  knew  the 
least  about  righting,  or  could  be  driven  into  fighting  if  he 
did  know  anything. 

Fabian  Danglar  would  have  attracted  attention  any- 
where, even  though  he  had  dressed  modestly  and  in  an 
unassuming  manner.  As  he  dressed  extravagantly,  and 
seemed  to  court  observation,  he  produced  no  small  amount 
of  comment. 

If  an  ordinary  man  had  appeared  in  Powder  Gap  wear- 
ing Danglar's  clothes,  a  dozen  men  would  have  regarded 
it  as  a  personal  insult,  and  sought  to  "curry  him  down." 

Danglar,  however,  was  anything  but  an  ordinary  man. 
There  was  something  awesome  about  his  cold,  white  face, 
and  his  keen,  black  eyes  had  a  way  of  seeming  to  look 
down  into  one's  very  soul. 

No  one  thought  of  tackling  the  strange  Frenchman. 

Among  the  strangers  was  one  who  was  regarded  as  of 
little  importance,  and  yet  he  attracted  considerable  attea- 


234  The  Professor's  Troubles. 

tion,  as  he  was  the  first  Celestial  to  enter  Powder  Gap. 
Sing  Lee,  the  Chinaman,  persisted  in  trying  to  "drum  up 
business,"  although  he  ran  into  no  small  amount  of  trou- 
ble, and  seemed  nearly  frightened  out  of  his  senses  a 
dozen  times  an  hour. 

Returning  to  the  hotel  after  his  talk  with  Danglar  in 
the  Snow  Flake  saloon,  Frank  found  Hans  and  Professor 
Scotch  anxiously  awaiting  his  arrival. 

"Vere  you  peen  so  long  alretty?"  demanded  Hans. 

"Look  here,  Frank — look  here!"  blustered  the  profes- 
sor, caressing  his  fiery  whiskers,  "I've  enough  of  this !" 

"Why  don't  you  shave  it  off  ?"  laughed  the  boy. 

"Eh?    What's  that?    What's  that?" 

"I  can't  name  it." 

"Young  man,  you  are  altogether  too  gay.  Remember, 
I  am  your  legal  guardian,  and  I  don't  want  to  be 
treated " 

"I  never  knew  you  to  refuse,  if  you  were  asked  to  take 
something." 

The  professor  gasped,  his  face  flushing. 

"This  is  too  much !  This  is  too  much !"  rumbled  the  lit- 
tle man  with  the  big  voice,  as  he  excitedly  rubbed  his  long 
nose. 

"I  think  so  myself,"  chuckled  the  irrepressible  lad ;  "but 
I  suppose  it  grew  there  without  your  consent?" 

"Yaw,  yaw,  yaw !"  roared  Hans,  forgetting  himself,  and 
giving  the  little  professor  a  resounding  slap  on  the  back. 

The  Dutch  boy's  hands  were  like  hams,  and  Professor 
Scotch  was  sent  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  in  a  twin- 
kling. 

"Oxcuse  me,  brofessor!"  cried  the  frightened  lad.  "I 
don'd  meant  to  done  dot !" 

He  made  a  spring  to  assist  the  professor  to  his  feet. 
Frank  thrust  out  a  foot,  and  tripped  the  fat  Dutch  boy, 
so  he  fell  fairly  upon  Professor  Scotch,  who  was  crushed 
to  the  floor. 

"Murder !"  roared  the  professor.     "I  can't  stand  this !" 

"You  can't,  can  you  ?"  laughed  Frank. 

"This  is  no  joke !"  cried  Scotch,  as  he  gave  Hans  a  kick 
in  the  stomach. 

"Veil,  I  dinks  dot  meinseluf !"  gurgled  the  Dutch  boy, 


The  Professor's  Troubles.  235 

beginning  to  get  mad  himself.  "You  don'd  like  dot,  do 
I  ?  Veil,  dot  makes  you  efen  mit  me." 

He  kicked  the  professor,  in  return,  and  the  little  man 
went  down  on  his  face,  rubbing  his  nose  into  the  rough 
floor,  and  filling  it  with  splinters. 

Scotch  sat  up,  clasping  his  nose  with  both  hands,  and 
glaring  at  Hans,  who  also  sat  up,  clasping  his  stomach, 
and  glaring  at  the  professor. 

The  sight  was  so  ludicrous  that  Frank  was  convulsed 
with  laughter. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  a  camera  now !"  he  cried.  "What  a  pic- 
ture you  would  make !" 

"I'll  fix  him  so  he'll  make  a  picture !"  rumbled  the  angry 
professor,  as  he  made  a  scramble  for  Hans. 

The  Dutch  lad  gave  a  squeal,  and  swiftly  rolled  out  of 
the  way. 

"Go  it !"  cried  Frank,  standing  on  a  chair,  in  order  to  be 
out  of  the  way.  "I'll  bet  on  the  best  man !" 

"Brofessor!  Brofessor!"  squawked  Hans;  "uf  you 
don'd  let  me  alone,  I  vill  get  hurt !" 

''Just  let  me  get  hold  of  you !"  cried  the  excited  and  an- 
gered man. 

"Not  on  your  electrodype!  Vait  an  hour,  und  let  me 
excuse  yourself!" 

In  the  excitement  of  the  scramble,  the  two  came  heavily 
against  the  chair  on  which  Frank  was  standing,  and  he 
came  down  with  a  bump  on  the  professor's  shoulders.  As 
he  fell,  one  of  Frank's  feet  struck  Hans  on  the  ear,  and 
the  Dutch  lad  was  sent  rolling  onto  his  back,  stunned  and 
bewildered. 

The  professor  was  so  shocked  that  he  made  no  effort  to 
rise,  and  Frank  remained  seated  on  his  shoulders,  whis- 
tling "Hold  the  Fort." 

Hans  sat  up,  with  one  hand  clasped  to  his  stomach  and 
the  other  to  his  ear. 

"Veil,"  he  murmured,  "I  don'd  exactly  know  vere  I 
vos  at." 

Professor  Scotch  groaned. 

"What  has  happened  ?"  he  thickly  asked,  in  a  smothered 
voice.  "Has  there  been  an  earthquake,  or  anything  of 
that  kind?" 

"Oh,  there's  been  a  slight  breeze,  that's  all,"  laughed 


236  The  Professor's  Troubles. 

Frank.  "Professor,  you  seem  to  be  full  of  business — and 
splinters.  If  you  are  all  right  now,  I'll  remove  myself, 
and  let  you  get  up." 

"Oh,  sit  still !"  gurgled  the  professor.  "Make  yourself 
comfortable !" 

Frank  arose,  and  assisted  the  professor  to  his  feet. 
Blood  was  running  from  the  end  of  the  man's  nose,  and 
he  looked  badly  broken  up.  Hans  got  upon  his  feet,  and 
the  two  gazed  at  each  other,  ruefully. 

"I  think  there  has  been  a  mistake,"  said  Scotch. 

"Yaw,"  murmured  the  boy ;  "I  belief  dot." 

"The  professor  nose  it,"  declared  Frank,  and  then 
dodged,  as  if  expecting  somebody  to  throw  something. 

"You  boys  will  be  the  death  of  me  yet !"  sighed  the  little 
man.  "Look  at  my  nose — full  of  splinters!  Hans,  as 
you  were  the  cause  of  that,  you'll  have  to  pick  them  out." 

"Veil,  I  vill  done  dot  uf  you  got  me  a  knife." 

"I  won't  have  a  knife  used  about  my  nose,"  declared 
the  professor.  "I  have  here  in  the  lapel  of  my  coat  a  fine 
cambric  needle  which  you  may  use." 

"Dot  vos  der  sduff,  brofessor!  I  peen  retty  to  done 
dot." 

"You  must  be  very  careful  not  to  hurt  me." 

"Oh,  yaw ;  I  don'd  hurt  you  no  more  than  I  can,  bro- 
fessor." 

"If  you  hurt  me  unnecessarily — well,  you'll  wish  you 
hadn't." 

"Don'd  you  got  oxcited.  I  vos  der  most  careful  veller 
vot  you  nefer  seen,  brofessor." 

"All  right.     Here's  the  needle." 

"Come  ofer  der  vindow  by,  und  I  done  dot  surgical 
oberation  righd  avay  off  soon." 

So  they  went  over  to  the  window,  where  the  professor 
sat  on  a  chair,  and  Hans  stood  over  him,  ready  to  begin 
work. 

Frank  pretended  to  examine  the  professor's  nose,  mak- 
ing some  sympathetic  observations.  Then  Hans  began  to 
pick  out  the  splinters. 

It  was  a  most  ludicrous  spectacle,  and  Frank  was  con- 
vulsed with  laughter. 

"If  you  could  see  yourself  now,  professor,  you  would 
be  proud  all  the  rest  of  your  life,"  he  said. 


The  Professor's  Troubles.  237 

"Oh,  it's  all  right!"  grated  Scotch,  who  was  holding 
himself  in  check  with  an  effort.  "I  know  who  is  respon- 
sible for  all  this." 

"Hope  you  don't  mean  me?"  exclaimed  the  mischievous 
lad,  with  pretended  sorrow.  "It  grieves  my  heart  to  see 
you  suffer,  professor." 

"Oh,  you  are  very  tender-hearted,  now  it  is  all  over!" 

"I  don't  know  whether  it  is  over  or  not,"  thought  the 
boy,  as  he  watched  Hans  picking  away  at  the  splinters. 

"Ouch !"  ejaculated  Scotch.  "Be  careful,  Hans !  That 
needle  is  sharp !" 

"Yes,"  said  Frank,  soberly,  "be  very  careful  Hans,  for 
that  needle  is  sharp." 

Then  he  gave  the  Dutch  lad  a  sharp,  sly  pinch. 

Hans  gave  a  howl  and  a  jump,  driving  the  needle  into 
the  professor's  nose. 

Then  it  was  Scotch's  turn  to  howl. 

"Murder!"  he  roared,  bounding  from  the  chair  like  a 
rubber  ball.  "I'm  stabbed !" 

He  came  near  going  into  convulsions,  tearing  madly 
round  the  room,  as  he  thundered : 

''Send  for  a  doctor!  I'm  stabbed!  I  am  bleeding  to 
death!" 

"Send  for  a  doctor,  Hans !"  shouted  Frank,  as  he  tore 
about  the  room  at  the  professor's  heels.  "A  moment's  de- 
lay may  be  fatal !" 

"The  needle !"  bawled  the  little  man.  "It's  sticking  in 
my  nose !" 

"The  needle!"  echoed  Frank.  "It's  sticking  in  his 
nose !  And  that  is  not  a  pincushion." 

The  professor  found  the  door,  yanked  it  open,  sprang 
out,  and  fell  all  the  way  downstairs.  Picking  himself  up 
when  he  reached  the  bottom,  he  rushed  into  the  office, 
where  he  found  a  clerk,  who  extracted  the  needle,  with 
the  aid  of  some  tweezers. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

PARSON     PEACEFUL. 

That  evening  at  nine  o'clock  the  Snow  Flaks  :aloon 
was  packed  to  the  doors.  It  seemed  that  the  entire  town 
had  heard  that  Parson  Peaceful  was  to  deliver  a  sermon 
there,  and  had  turned  out  to  hear  it. 

Although  Professor  Scotch  professed  a  pronounced 
horror  of  such  a  place  as  the  Snow  Flake,  Frank  had  in- 
duced him  to  visit  the  saloon  that  evening  to  hear  the 
fighting  parson  speak. 

The  professor  wore  a  patch  of  plaster  over  the  entire 
end  of  his  nose,  and  he  had  a  woeful,  downcast  expression, 
that  made  him  look  very  tame  and  dejected. 

Until  nine  o'clock  came,  Andy  Barter  did  a  rushing 
business  at  the  bar. 

Promptly  at  nine  Parson  Peaceful  mounted  to  the  top 
of  the  bar  and  announced  that  the  sale  of  drinks  would  be 
suspended  till  he  had  finished  speaking. 

As  Barter  had  not  been  asked  about  this,  he  was  not  a 
little  surprised,  but  he  said : 

"That  goes !     Drive  ahead,  parson." 

So  the  parson  took  his  text,  and  began  to  speak.  He 
did  not  attempt  to  express  himself  in  a  flowery  manner, 
but  used  simple  language,  and  talked  to  the  miners  in  a 
friendly,  confidential  way,  that  quickly  won  their  attention 
and  sympathy. 

Among  the  listeners,  Frank  observed  Wallace  Coville 
and  Fabian  Danglar. 

The  Frenchman  seemed  inclined  to  keep  behind  Co- 
ville, and  was  almost  constantly  within  reach  of  the  mine 
owner,  although  the  latter  did  not  seem  to  notice  Danglar 
at  all. 

Something  led  Frank  to  watch  the  two  men,  although  he 
was  listening  all  the  while  to  the  parson's  words. 

The  parson  illustrated  how  easy  it  was  to  sin  and  travel 
the  wide  road  that  leads  to  destruction.  He  told  little 


Parson  Peaceful.  239 

stories  and  anecdotes  that  were  applicable  to  whatever  he 
wished  to  impress  upon  his  hearers,  and,  as  some  of  his 
stories  were  humorous,  the  rough  men  of  the  camp  felt 
well  repaid  for  listening  to  him. 

For  some  reason,  the  sermon  sounded  very  peculiar  to 
Frank.  It  seemed  all  the  while  that  the  parson  was  beat- 
ing around  a  certain  object,  yet  drawing  nearer  and  nearer 
to  it.  Although  it  might  be  called  a  sermon,  it  was  far 
more  like  a  lecture,  and  the  man  did  not  go  into  rhapso- 
dies or  attempt  to  get  his  hearers  religiously  enthused. 

Finally,  however,  the  sermon  took  a  queer  turn.  The 
parson  sought  to  impress  them  that  sin  was  on  every 
hand. 

"Within  the  sound  of  my  voice,"  he  said,  "within  the 
sight  of  my  eyes,  it  is  possible  there  are  men  who  have 
committed  the  greatest  of  sins.  The  betrayal  of  friend- 
ship and  confidence  is  a  sin  and  a  crime.  Gold  has  lured 
many  a  man  to  sell  his  soul  and  stain  his  hands  with  blood. 

"Once  there  was  a  man  who  was  trusted  by  another; 
they  were  partners  in  a  great  enterprise.  But  one  partner 
betrayed  the  other — sought  his  destruction.  The  unfor- 
tunate one  was  buried  deep  in  the  darkness  of  a  black  cav- 
ern, and  there  left  to  perish  from  hunger.  He  was  not 
killed  outright,  and  through  the  cavern  trickled  a  stream 
of  water,  by  the  aid  of  which  he  lived  many  days.  He  suf- 
fered the  tortures  of  the  damned,  as  he  tore  at  the  rocks 
and  earth  with  his  bare,  bleeding  hands,  frantically  seek- 
ing to  dig  his  way  out.  He  cried  to  his  false  partner  to 
come  and  set  him  free,  to  give  him  a  morsel  of  food,  or  to 
kill  him.  And  the  guilty  one  used  to  steal  down  into  the 
cavern,  where,  through  a  rift  in  the  rocks,  he  could  hear 
the  entombed  wretch  calling  and  shrieking,  turning  to  a 
maniac  in  the  eternal  darkness  of  his  living  tomb ! 

"Think  of  it — picture  it !  Think  of  the  heartless  mon- 
ster, as  he  crept  down  there,  time  after  time,  to  listen  to 
the  dying  cries  of  the  man  who  had  befriended  him,  and 
whom  he  had  thus  rewarded !  Each  time  those  cries  grew 
weaker  and  more  incoherent,  and  the  dastardly  betrayer 
knew  his  victim  was  dying  by  inches. 

"There  was  another,  who  suspected  the  truth,  and  he 
followed  the  wretch  down  into  the  darkness  of  the  cavern. 
He  heard  the  last  faint  cries  of  the  doomed  man,  and, 


240  Parson  Peaceful. 

shuddering,  quivering,  sickened  with  horror,  he  sought  to 
flee  from  the  place,  and  make  public  the  knowledge  he 
had  obtained.  Fate  was  against  him.  He  made  a  mis- 
step in  the  darkness — he  fell,  his  head  struck  against  a 
rock,  and  he  lay  unconscious  in  the  passage.  There  he 
was  found  by  the  dastard,  who  knew  he  had  been  fol- 
.  lowed.  Then  the  spy  was  dragged  up  through  a  rift  in 
the  rocks,  and  cast  into  the  living  tomb  with  the  first  un- 
fortunate. 

"And  now  there  were  two  to  cry  out  in  agony,  to  suffer 
most  horribly  and  die  in  the  darkness.  The  wretch  con- 
tinued to  creep  down  and  listen.  He  heard  the  cries  of 
one  cease;  he  heard  the  cries  of  the  other  grow  fainter 
and  fainter,  and  finally  he  heard  them  no  more.  Then  he 
felt  that  both  were  dead,  and  his  terrible  secret  was  for- 
ever buried  in  the  heart  of  the  earth. 

"But  such  a  fearful  secret  can  never  be  safely  buried. 
It  left  its  marks  upon  the  murderer — it  streaked  his  hair 
with  gray,  and  it  hardened  and  lined  his  face,  changing  it 
fully.  The  memory  of  this  crime  is  still  doing  its  work 
on  that  face.  Day  by  day  it  is  writing  an  awful  word 
there — a  word  that  all  men  may  read.  That  word  is — 
Murderer ! 

"Can  such  a  monster  escape  justice?  No!  The  time 
has  come  when  all  men  may  read  the  fearful  secret  in  his 
face !  Men  of  Powder  Gap,  that  wretch  is  in  your  midst ! 
Look  around  you — look  into  one  another's  faces !  You 
,'icannot  fail  to  detect  the  one  on  whose  features  the  fearful 
fword  is  branded !" 

It  is  putting  it  mild  to  say  that  these  words  of  the 
peculiar  parson  created  a  sensation  in  the  saloon. 

Frank  had  been  wondering  at  the  strange  turn  which 
the  man's  "sermon"  had  taken;  but  the  ending  was  of  a 
most  unexpected  and  sensational  nature. 

The  listeners  turned  to  stare  at  one  another,  looking 
for  the  man  whose  face  should  betray  his  dreadful  secret. 

One  man,  with  head  bent  down,  moved  toward  the  door, 
his  intention  being  to  leave  the  place. 

He  ran  fairly  against  Fabian  Danglar,  who,  seemingly, 
had  taken  pains  to  place  himself  in  the  man's  way. 

'"Sare,"  said  the  Frenchman,  in  a  low,  insinuating  tone, 


Parson  Peaceful.  241 

"why  ze  vera  great  hurree?  You  hole  your  head  down, 
like  you  deed  not  want  your  face  to  be  seen." 

Wallace  Coville  was  the  man  whom  Danglar  had 
stopped,  and  a  harsh  exclamation  came  from  the  mine 
owner's  lips. 

But  the  exclamation  was  broken  in  the  midst,  and,  with 
his  eyes  staring  from  their  sockets,  Coville  fell  back  a  step, 
glaring  like  a  hunted  thing  at  Danglar. 

The  Frenchman  stood  straight  as  an  Indian  in  the  mine 
owner's  path,  his  right  side  toward  Coville,  his  arms 
folded,  and  an  icy,  chilling  smile  on  his  marble  face. 

"Mercy!"  gasped  the  startled  mine  owner,  lifting  one 
arm,  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"What  ees  ze  mattaire,  sare?"  asked  Danglar.  "You 
look  like  you  see  the  ghost." 

"The  face  is  that  of No,  no !     It  cannot  be !" 

"You  speak  vera  strange,  sare.  Is  zere  anyt'ing  'bout 
my  face  zat  f rightun  you  ?" 

Coville  pulled  himself  together,  with  a  mighty  effort. 

"No,  no !"  he  harshly  cried.  "It  is  nothing !  I  thought 
I  had  seen  you  before." 

"Is  zat  all?" 

"Yes,  yes!" 

"Zen,  I  must  remaind  you  of  some  one  zat  you  expec* 
nevare  to  see  again?  Ees  zat  right?" 

"Oh,  I  can't  spend  my  time  talking!  I  have  remained 
here  too  long  already." 

He  attempted  to  pass  Danglar,  but  the  Frenchman 
again  blocked  the  way. 

"Wait,"  he  said,  and  Frank  heard  every  word  distinctly. 
"I  have  somet'in  zat  I  weesh  to  say  to  you,  sare." 

"I  do  not  care  to  hear  it !     Stand  aside,  or " 

"Or  what?" 

Coville's  hand  went  toward  his  hip  pocket,  his  fingers 
clutched  the  butt  of  a  revolver,  and  he  jerked  the  weapon 
forth. 

But  he  was  given  no  chance  to  use  it,  for  Fabian  Dang- 
lar was  watching  every  move,  and  the  Frenchman's  iron 
fingers  closed  in  a  crushing  grip  on  Coville's  wrist. 

"Not  zis  evening,  Mistaire  Coville!"  he  said,  in  the 
same  calm,  chilling  tone.  "I  am  reddee  for  zat  bees- 
ness  \" 


242  Parson  Peaceful. 

Then  he  gave  the  mine  owner's  wrist  such  a  twist  that 
Coville  dropped  the  weapon,  with  a  cry  of  pain. 

"Zat  ees  a  vera  handsome  revolvare,  sare,"  observed 
Danglar,  as  he  placed  a  foot  on  the  weapon.  "Eet  look 
like  eet  might  shoot  vera  well." 

"It  can !"  grated  Coville,  "and  it  is  liable  to  shoot  well 
enough  to  take  your  life !  You  shall  be  called  to  account 
for  this!" 

Danglar  smiled,  with  a  positive  expression  of  pleasure. 

"Zat  would  be  most  agreeable  to  me,  Mistaire  Coville. 
You  have  but  to  name  ze  time  and  ze  place.  I  geef  you 
zat  privilege.  I  will  name  ze  weapon." 

"I  have  not  challenged  you." 

"Zat  ees  ze  trute ;  but  I  eenfer  zat  you  mean  to  do  eet." 

"I  don't  know.  Why  should  I  fight  with  anybody  like 
you?  I  do  not  know  you." 

"You  theenk  for  one  moment  zat  you  deed,  ha?  You 
be  vera  much  frightun." 

"Bah!  I  was  surprised,  that's  all.  Stand  aside! 
Duels  are  altogether  different  here  than  they  are  in 
France.  Here  it  is  a  case  of  shoot  at  sight,  with  no  sec- 
onds and  no  preliminaries." 

"By  zat  do  you  mean  you  theenk  you  weel  shoot  at  me 
ze  next  time  you  see  me  ?" 

"Why  should  I  ?    I  will  think  it  over." 

Danglar  picked  up  the  revolver,  which  he  unhesitatingly 
passed  to  Coville,  who  received  it  with  surprise.  The 
Frenchman  did  not  seem  at  all  afraid  the  mine  owner 
would  attempt  to  use  the  weapon,  and,  if  Coville  had  a 
fleeting  desire  to  do  so,  he  quickly  abandoned  it,  for  those 
coal-black  eyes  were  full  of  warning. 

Thrusting  the  revolver  into  his  pocket,  the  mine  owner 
once  more  started  for  the  door. 

As  the  man  passed,  Danglar  leaned  forward,  grasped 
his  arm,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

A  choking  sound  came  from  Coville's  throat,  and  he 
staggered,  his  face  ghastly  white.  Then,  flinging  aside 
any  one  who  blocked  his  path,  he  leaped,  like  a  frightened 
hare,  from  the  open  doorway,  and  hurried  down  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

IN  THE  MINE. 

Frank  had  seen  enough  to  give  him  food  for  thought. 
IWith  the  exception  of  the  final  words,  which  Danglar 
whispered  into  Wallace  Coville's  ear,  the  boy  had  missed 
scarcely  anything  that  passed  between  the  two  men. 

Others  had  seen  and  heard  it  all,  and  there  were  mutter- 
ings  and  exclamations  of  wonder  as  Coville  rushed  away. 

Those  who  remembered  the  mystery  connected  with 
Jason  Carter's  disappearance  spoke  in  low  tones  to  others 
about  it,  and  many  believed  the  parson  had  deliberately 
aimed  his  words  at  Coville. 

If  Parson  Peaceful  had  sought  to  kick  up  a  sensation  in 
the  Snow  Flake,  he  had  certainly  succeeded  very  well. 

But  where  was  the  parson  ? 

The  men  who  had  listened  to  his  talk  now  began  to  look 
around  for  him,  as  he  had  disappeared  from  the  bar,  and 
was  not  to  be  seen.  Nor  could  he  be  found  in  the  place, 
which  made  it  evident  that  he  had  slipped  away  in  the 
midst  of  the  excitement  following  the  startling  climax  of 
his  remarks. 

Frank  had  heard  and  seen  enough.  He  touched 
the  professor's  arm,  he  grasped  Hans'  wrist,  and  he  spoke 
a  single  word : 

"Come." 

Professor  Scotch  was  ready  enough  to  leave  the  place, 
and  Hans  made  no  objection. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were  in  their  room  at  the 
hotel. 

"What  do  you  make  of  all  this  ?"  asked  the  professor,  in 
a  puzzled  way.  "That  was  the  queerest  sermon  I  ever 
heard,  and  then  it  seemed  the  man  stopped  by  that  French- 
man was  all  wrought  up  over  the  parson's  words.  I 
fancy  there  is  something  behind  this  affair — something 
We  do  not  understand." 

"It  is  something  I  mean  to  understand,"  assured  Frank. 


244  1°  the  Mine. 

"Professor,  you  wondered  why  I  wished  to  come  to  the 
Santa  Catarina  Mountains,  and  to  Powder  Gap.  I  will 
tell  you.  I  had  reasons  to  believe  I  should  find  my  father 
in  these  mountains.  You  look  astounded.  I  know  my 
father  has  been  believed  dead  for  years,  but  he  was  alive 
six  months  ago.  He  owned  a  ring  that  would  lead  him  to 
a  wonderfully  rich  mine  amid  these  mountains.  I  believe 
that  mine  is  the  Giant,  now  owned  by  Wallace  Coville, 
who  was  so  wrought  up  by  the  parson's  words  to-night. 
My  father  is  not  here!  but  I  have  good  reason  to  believe 
he  was  Wallace  Coville's  partner,  known  here  as  Jason 
Carter.  Carter  mysteriously  disappeared  some  time  ago. 
What  became  of  him  is  not  known.  A  man  by  the  name 
of  George  Bailey  attempted  to  solve  the  mystery,  and  he 
also  disappeared.  The  words  of  Parson  Peaceful  to-night 
have  set  me  to  thinking  that  the  Giant  Mine  may  hold  the 
secret  of  both  disappearances.  It  is  possible  that  my 
father  was  buried  alive  in  that  mine,  and  that  Bailey  met 
a  similar  fate.  It  is  a  horrible  thing  to  contemplate,  but  I 
fear  it  happened.  If  so,  Coville  is  the  guilty  wretch,  and 
he  shall  not  escape  just  retribution !" 

Frank  spoke  with  forced  calmness,  and  Professor 
Scotch  listened  in  profound  amazement.  Then  the  pro- 
fessor asked  a  hundred  questions,  all  of  which  the  boy 
answered  as  best  he  could,  giving  the  man  a  very  good 
understanding  of  the  matter. 

Far  into  the  night  they  talked,  while  Hans,  having 
grown  sleepy,  slumbered  quietly  on  the  bed. 

At  length,  the  professor  proposed  to  turn  in,  but  Frank 
did  not  feel  like  sleeping,  and  he  sat  by  the  window,  think- 
ing, thinking. 

When  the  professor  was  fairly  asleep,  Frank  rose,  and 
slipped  from  the  room,  leaving  the  hotel. 

Powder  Gap  was  not  asleep.  There  were  loungers 
about  the  hotel,  and  the  bar  was  doing  a  rushing  business. 
Every  saloon  was  running  at  full  blast,  and  the  sound  of 
music  and  shuffling  feet  told  that  the  rough  men  were  en- 
joying themselves  in  a  way  at  the  camp's  one  dance-hall. 

Frank  walked  through  the  place,  and  approached  the 
building  near  the  mouth  of  the  Giant  Mine.  He  felt  him- 
self drawn  thither,  as  if  by  a  loadstone.  All  at  once,  the 
mine  seemed  to  possess  a  remarkable  fascination  for  him. 


In  the  Mine.  245 

There  was  a  bright  moon,  the  light  of  which  showed 
him  the  black  mouth  of  the  mine,  which  yawned  like  the 
jaws  of  some  greedy  monster  that  feeds  on  human  flesh 
and  blood.  He  wondered  if,  somewhere  far  down  in  the 
bowels  of  the  monster,  his  father's  corpse  lay  withering 
in  the  living  tomb  to  which  a  dastardly  partner  had  con- 
signed him.  The  thought  turned  the  boy's  blood  to  ice 
water,  and  caused  his  heart  to  sink  like  a  stone  in  his 
bosom. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  buildings,  he  drew  nearer  to  the 
mouth  of  the  mine,  even  though  he  felt  a  horror  of  the 
place.  He  longed  to  enter  and  explore  it,  and  yet  the 
thought  was  repugnant  to  him. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  in  the  shadow  of  one  of  the 
buildings.  At  length  he  resolved  to  return  to  the  hotel, 
and  he  was  turning  away,  when  a  moving  figure  caught 
his  attention. 

A  man  was  approaching,  and  Frank  drew  into  the  deep- 
est shadow,  waiting  and  watching. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  man,  and  the  boy  began  to 
feel  that  he  must  be  seen.  He  made  ready  for  such  an 
emergency,  but,  to  his  relief,  the  man  passed  on. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  noticed  something  familiar 
about  the  figure,  and,  looking  closer,  he  recognized  the 
man.  It  was  Wallace  Coville. 

"What  can  have  brought  him  here  at  this  hour?"  was 
the  question  which  flashed  through  Frank's  mind. 

Now  keenly  interested  and  curious,  Frank  watched 
every  movement  of  the  mine  owner. 

Twice  Coville  stopped,  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  turn- 
ing back.  He  appeared  to  be  fighting  a  battle  with  him- 
self, and  the  watching  lad  fancied  that  he  was  also  fasci- 
nated by  the  mysterious  and  awesome  power  of  the  yawn- 
ing mine,  which  was  drawing  him  nearer  and  nearer,  de- 
spite his  fears. 

The  spectacle  caused  Frank  to  shiver. 

Close  to  the  dark  mouth  of  the  mine  Coville  halted, 
and  the  boy  could  hear  him  muttering  to  himself,  but  the 
still  night  air  did  not  carry  the  words  to  Frank's  ears. 

All  at  once,  with  a  wild,  despairing  upflinging  of  his 
arms,  Coville  plunged  forward  and  disappeared  into  the 
black  mouth  of  the  mine. 


246  In  the  Mine. 

"Gone !"  panted  Frank.  "It  cannot  be  he  is  going  far 
in  the  darkness !" 

Like  a  young  panther,  the  lad  darted  forward,  and 
reached  the  shadow  of  a  great  bowlder  close  to  the  black 
opening  in  the  side  of  the  mountain.  There  he  crouched, 
peering  into  the  darkness,  watching  and  waiting — for 
what? 

Some  moments  passed,  and  every  moment  seemed  an 
hour.  Once  a  faint  sound  seemed  to  come  up  to  the  ears 
of  the  boy,  and  then  all  was  deathly  still  once  more. 

Flash — splutter — flare;  a  light  gleamed  down  in  the 
darkness. 

"It's  a  miner's  lamp,"  thought  Frank.  "Coville  has 
lighted  it !  He  is  going  down  into  the  mine  !" 

He  could  see  the  man,  and  he  saw  that  Coville  was 
really  going  down  the  slope. 

"I'll  follow  him!" 

It  was  a  wild  resolve,  and  Frank  could  not  have  told 
why  he  thought  of  such  a  thing ;  but  the  fascination  of  the 
place  was  still  upon  him — now  stronger  than  ever — and 
he  felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  know  why  Wallace  Coville 
should  visit  the  mine  at  that  hour. 

With  the  stealthy  tread  of  a  cat,  Frank  slipped  swiftly 
and  noiselessly  down  the  slope,  keeping  his  eyes  fastened 
on  the  twinkling  miner's  lamp  which  Coville  carried.  That 
light  was  the  boy's  guide,  and  he  picked  his  way  along 
with  wonderful  silence. 

Once  a  stone  turned  beneath  Frank's  foot,  sending  his 
heart  into  his  mouth,  and  causing  Coville  to  halt  and 
listen. 

The  boy  stood  still  as  long  as  the  man  remained  in  a 
listening  attitude ;  but  Coville  finally  muttered  something, 
and  moved  onward  and  downward  again. 

Keeping  between  the  rails  of  the  car  track,  Frank  con- 
tinued to  follow. 

On  they  went,  and  the  air  began  to  seem  close  and  dis- 
agreeable. Frank  filled  his  lungs  with  difficulty,  feeling 
as  if  the  walls,  which  he  could  not  see  on  either  hand, 
were  pressing  in  upon  him. 

Finally,  far  down  in  the  earth,  deep  in  the  heart  of  the 
mountain,  Coville  came  to  a  spot  where  an  old  shaft  led  off 
from  the  main  vein.  A  mass  of  rocks  and  earth  had 


In  the  Mine.  247 

fallen  down  there,  where  the  timbers  had  failed  to  prevent 
a  partial  cave  in.  Over  these  Coville  climbed,  and  Frank 
did  not  hesitate  about  following.  Now  that  he  had  gone 
thus  far,  the  boy  would  not  have  allowed  that  gleaming 
light  to  pass  beyond  his  view  for  worlds. 

Beyond  the  fallen  mass  the  abandoned  shaft  zig-zagged 
hither  and  thither  in  an  eccentric  manner,  and  Frank  was 
forced  to  keep  yet  nearer  to  the  mine  owner  in  order  to 
hold  the  light  of  the  lamp  constantly  in  view. 

How  far  they  went  Frank  had  not  the  faintest  idea,  but 
it  seemed  an  interminable  distance.  Finally  Coville  ap- 
proached a  great  mass  of  fallen  earth  and  stone — ap- 
proached it  hesitatingly,  as  if  filled  with  awe  and  fear. 
The  mass  blocked  the  entire  passage,  with  the  exception  of 
a  small  black  opening  far  up  at  the  roof  of  the  chamber, 
if  chamber  it  might  be  called. 

Coville  was  listening — he  was  stealing  toward  the  bar- 
rier like  a  guilty  thing.  The  lamp  quivered  in  his  hand, 
and  he  seemed  nearly  overcome  with  his  emotion.  The 
boy  heard  him  mutter : 

"Still— all  is  still !     Not  a  sound  comes Hark !" 

Clink!  clink!  clink! 

The  sounds  were  faint,  muffled,  far  away,  and  still  they 
were  distinct. 

They  seemed  like  the  blows  of  a  pick. 

The  mine  owner  had  straightened  up,  and  stood  like 
an  image  of  stone. 

Man  and  boy  were  listening  for  a  repetition  of  the 
sounds. 

Clink  !  clink !  clink ! 

There  could  be  no  mistake ;  surely  somebody  was  using 
a  pick  beyond  the  barrier  of  earth  and  stone. 

A  grating  groan  startled  Frank,  but  he  instantly  realized 
that  it  came  from  the  lips  of  Wallace  Colville. 

"Digging— still  digging !" 

The  words  were  spoken  by  the  mine  owner,  and  the  boy 
heard  them  distinctly.  The  voice  was  that  of  a  man 
Overcome  by  unutterable  horror. 

The  sounds  of  the  pick  had  ceased,  and  after  listening 
•ome  moments,  Colville  hoarsely  whispered : 

"He  is  dead — both  are  dead!  They  died  many  weeks 
ago,  and  yet  they  are  digging,  digging,  digging!  They 


248 


In  the  Mine. 


cannot  rest — they  are  determined  to  dig  their  way  out! 
Merciful  heavens!  Think — think  of  two  dead  men  wh* 
have  found  a  pick,  and  who  are  laboring  to  open  a  passage 
that  the  world  may  come  in  and  discover  their  bones! 
But  they  shall  not  succeed !"  he  almost  shrieked,  waving 
the  lamp  above  his  head.  "I'll  put  in  a  dozen  blasts,  and 
this  branch  shaft  shall  be  filled  with  earth  and  stone,  so 
that  they  cannot  dig  their  way  out  in  a  thousand  years !" 

Again  Coville  listened. 

"Still— all  is  still!"  he  harshly  murmured.  "Yet  they 
will  not  rest  long.  Night  and  day  they  are  working  te 
open  a  passage  that  the  world  may  come  in  and  find 
their  bones ;  but  I  will  baffle  them — ha !  ha ! — I  will  baf- 
fle them ! 

"But  that  infernal  parson  knows  my  secret!  How  he 
knows  it  is  more  than  I  can  tell,  but  know  it  he  certainly 
does.  That  seals  his  fate !  He  shall  die — his  bones  shall 
rot  in  an  unmarked  grave!  He  shall  not  bring  me  to 
justice ! 

"But  the  Frenchman — may  the  fiends  fly  away  with 
him !  The  Frenchman  with  the  face  of  the  dead,  and  eyes 
that  look  one  through  and  through !  Who  is  he  ?  I  fear 
that  man !  I  am  sure  he  is  a  thousand  times  more  danger- 
ous than  the  parson !  They  are  marked,  both  of  them ! 
They  cannot  escape !" 

Frank  heard  every  word. 

"The  parson  and  the  Frenchman  shall  know  of  this," 
thought  the  boy. 

Coville  was  looking  upward  toward  the  small,  dark 
opening. 

"Shall  I  go  up  there — shall  I  look  into  their  tomb?"  he 
said,  putting  the  question  to  himself.  "Ah!  but  it  can't 
be  done,  for  I  closed  the  last  opening  when  Bailey  was 
thrown  in  to  keep  Carter  company.  The  place  is  sealed. 

"How  Carter  struggled  to  reach  the  opening!  But  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  mount  to  die  spot.  Now  he  is 
dead!  Yes,  he  is  dead,  but  he  will  not  rest.  Until  this 
occurred  I  always  believed  a  dead  man  disposed  of;  but 
now  I  know  the  dead  sometimes  refuse  to  rest  quietly  in 
their  graves." 

Having  heard  these  words,  there  was  now  no  longer  a 
doubt  in  Frank's  mind  concerning  the  fate  of  Jason  Carter 


In  the  Mine.  249 

and  George  Bailey.  Colville  was  a  wretch  of  the  deepest 
dye ;  and  had  consigned  Carter  and  Bailey  to  the  most  hor- 
rible of  fates,  a  lingering  death  by  starvation  in  the  dark- 
ness of  this  underground  tomb. 

Frank  felt  that  Wallace  Coville  was  the  most  repug- 
nant and  fearful  of  criminals ;  but  he  was  rich  and  power- 
ful,  and  it  might  be  no  easy  thing  to  bring  him  to  justice. 

"Still,  he  shall  not  escape — I  swear  it!"  was  the  mental 
,  vow  registered  by  the  determined  lad. 

Coville  seemed  on  the  point  of  turning  away,  yet  he 
lingered  near  the  spot,  as  if  held  there  by  some  powerful 
fascination.  He  listened,  with  the  lamp  held  aloft,  and  the 
boy  saw  him  press  a  hand  over  his  heart,  as  if  to  silence  its 
tumultuous  throbbing. 

And  then  the  sound  of  the  pick  was  heard  once  more. 

"Dig — dig  away !"  screamed  Coville,  as  if  suddenly 
overcome  by  his  emotion.  "When  you  dig  out  I  will  have 
been  dead  and  gone  a  thousand  years !" 

Barely  had  the  last  words  left  his  lips  when  another 
voice  was  heard,  faint,  muffled,  appearing  to  come  from 
beyond  the  barrier  of  stone  and  earth,  but  speaking  every 
word  plainly : 

"Your  time  is  near,  Wallace  Coville!  The  sword  of 
justice  is  suspended  by  a  single  hair  above  your  head,  and 
it  is  soon  to  fall !  There  is  no  escape  for  you !" 

The  mine  owner  reeled  backward,  nearly  dropping  the 

lamp,  gasping  for  breath,  and  clutching  at  the  empty  air. 

It  seemed  that  he  had  been  struck  a  staggering  blow  full 

•  in  the  face.     For  a  moment  he  swayed  weakly,  his  legs 

'  threatening  to  melt  beneath  him.     The  light  of  the  lamp 

revealed  his  face  to  Frank,  who  never  forgot  the  look  of 

unspeakable  horror  depicted  there. 

Frank,  being  something  of  a  ventriloquist,  had  spoken 
the  words,  making  them  appear  to  come  from  behind  the 
fallen  mass  of  earth  and  stone. 

Coville's  nerve  was  completely  shattered.  As  soon  as 
he  could  recover,  he  uttered  a  wild  cry  of  terror,  and  then 
fled  screaming  from  the  spot. 

In  passing,  the  man  fairly  brushed  against  Frank,  yet 
he  was  so  blinded  by  fear,  that  he  did  not  see  the  lad 
at  all. 

Along  the  winding  passage  fled  the  mine  owner,  cling- 


250  In  the  Mine. 

ing  to  the  lamp,  without  the  aid  of  which  he  could  not 
hope  to  make  his  way  directly  to  the  surface. 

"I  must  not  lose  sight  of  that  light,"  muttered  Frank,  as 
he  started  after  the  man.  "If  I  do,  I'll  not  get  out  of  here 
to-night." 

Like  a  terrified  hare,  the  man  fled  on.  Sometimes  he 
ran  into  some  jagged  projection  of  the  passage,  some- 
times he  stumbled  and  fell,  but  he  bounded  up  in  a 
twinkling  and  continued  the  mad  run. 

Frank  found  he  had  no  easy  task  to  keep  the  terrified 
wretch  in  view. 

As  they  passed  into  the  main  shaft,  Colville  seemed  to 
hear  the  sound  of  pursuing  feet,  and  he  looked  back, 
catching  a  glimpse  of  the  boy's  dark  form. 

"They're  coming — coming!"  screamed  the  miserable 
creature,  and  he  renewed  his  speed. 

Up  the  long  slope  to  the  mouth  of  the  mine  the  man  ran, 
with  a  speed  that  fairly  amazed  Frank,  who  was  taxed  to 
the  utmost  to  keep  the  twinkling  lamp  in  view,  and  Frank 
was  a  most  excellent  runner  himself,  having  remarkable 
endurance. 

At  length  the  surface  was  reached,  and,  flinging  aside 
the  lamp,  Coville  fled  through  the  moonlight,  as  though 
the  foul  fiend  were  at  his  very  heels. 

A  moment  later  Frank  came  panting  from  the  mine  and 
rushed  headlong  upon  a  moving  form,  which  he  mechan- 
ically clutched  with  both  hands. 

"Gitte  lout !"  screamed  a  familiar  voice.  "Lette  glo,  or 
gitte  plunchee !" 

It  was  Sing  Lee,  the  Chinaman. 

Not  a  little  surprised,  Frank  held  fast  to  the  squirming 
Celestial,  demanding: 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"Sing  Lee  nebber  do  a  tling,"  was  the  earnest  pro- 
test. "Lette  glo,  Melican  bloy !" 

"Wait  a  minute ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"Sing  Lee  no  want  to  tlalkee." 

"That  may  be  true,  but  you  will  find  it  necessary  to 
talk  before  I  let  you  go." 

Frank's  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  he  was  determined 
the  Chinaman  should  tell  just  how  he  happened  to  be 
there  at  that  time  of  night. 


In  the  Mine.  251 

"Melican  bloy  bely  glood ;  no  hurtee  Sing  Lee  ?" 

"Not  if  you  answer  my  questions,  and  tell  the  truth." 

"No  savvy  blout  tluth." 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  but  the  truth  is  something  you  know 
very  little  about,  but  you  had  better  stick  to  it  just  about 
now,  for  I  am  a  bad  fellow  to  lie  to." 

The  Chinaman  was  silent. 

"Now  tell  me  just  why  you  are  prowling  around  here 
at  this  hour  of  the  night." 

"No  have  place  to  sleepee." 

"No  place  to  sleep?" 

"No." 

"And  you  were  looking  for  a  place  around  here?" 

"Tlought  mebbe  flind  one." 

"Well,  this  is  a  strange  place  to  look  for  anything  of 
that  sort.  Why  didn't  you  find  a  place  in  the  camp?" 

"No  havee  Chinaman  in  campee.  Tlell  him  to  glitee  lout 
heapee  qlick,  of  gitte  klick  lout.  Offal  to  play  monee ;  no 
keepe  Sing  Lee  flor  twenty-flive  dollal.  Tlell  Sing  Lee 
to  glo  to  hotee  place  down  in  gloundee,  so  dome  lound 
tlo  see  if  this  was  place  where  gitee  in.  Savvy  ?" 

"I  savvy  that  you  are  giving  me  a  great  jolly,  Sing,  and 
it  doesn't  go  a  little.  I  told  you  it  would  be  best  to  tell 
the  truth,  but  you  do  not  seem  to  think  so." 

"Alus  tlell  tluth.  Sing  Lee  lashun  to  Glolge  Wlash- 
ingtlon  allee  samee  gleat  lot." 

Frank  could  not  hold  back  a  faint  laugh,  and  the  Ce- 
lestial grinned  in  the  moonlight. 

All  at  once,  the  Chinaman  gave  a  squirm  and  a  twist, 
broke  away  from  Frank  and  took  to  his  heels. 

As  Sing  was  escaping,  Frank  made  a  clutch  at  him, 
grasped  something,  and  held  fast. 

The  strange  Chinaman  fled  on,  and  the  boy  stood  star- 
ing in  petrified  amazement  at  the  thing  that  dangled  in  his 
grasp. 

"It  was  Sing  Lee's  queue. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

HELD  AT   BAY. 

« 

"Great  Scott!" 

Frank  stared  in  unutterable  wonder  at  the  thing  which 
he  held  in  his  hand. 

It  was  the  Chinaman's  cue,  but  it  took  Frank  some 
time  to  realize  that  it  was  false. 

''Never  knew  hair  to  come  out  by  the  roots  so  easy 
before  this !"  he  murmured. 

Then,  after  examining  it,  he  quickly  decided : 

"Sing  Lee  is  a  fraud !  This  cue  is  very  neatly  made  up, 
but  the  hair  never  grew  on  the  head  of  a  Chinaman.  If 
Sing's  cue  is  false,  why  not  other  things  about  him?" 

Following  this  came  a  most  startling  thought : 

"I'll  wager  my  life  the  fellow  is  not  a  Chinaman  at  all !" 

If  not  a  Chinaman,  then  what  was  he?  Frank  asked 
himself  the  question,  and  he  felt  puzzled  and  mystified  be- 
yond measure. 

If  the  Celestial  was  in  disguise,  surely  the  disguise  was 
most  perfect.     Up  to  the  moment  that  Frank  had  discov- 
ered the  cue  to  be  false,  he  had  not  suspected  the  fellow  of 
j  being  anything  but  just  what  he  seemed,  a  Chinaman. 
j      Surely,  there  was  a  reason  why  the  man  should  disguise 
himself  in  such  a  manner,  and  the  boy  began  to  see  that 
there  was  something  behind  his  movements  besides  a 
mere  desire  to  pick  up  "washee-washee"  business. 

Frank  might  have  fancied  himself  dreaming,  but  the 
cue  was  in  his  hand  to  prove  it  was  no  hallucination. 

Surely  the  events  of  the  day  and  night  had  been  of  a 
most  surprising  and  unexpected  nature. 

And  now 

"The  Chinaman  is  gone,"  muttered  Frank;  "and  judg- 
ing by  the  way  he  ran,  there  is  little  chance  of  seeing  him 
again  to-night.  I  will  keep  this  scalp;  the  fellow  may 
call  for  it  to-morrow." 


Held  at  Bay.  253 

There  was  no  reason  for  lingering  longer  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  mine,  and  so  he  made  his  way  toward  the  hotel. 

His  mind  was  in  a  tumult,  and  he  wondered  beyond 

measure  at  all  he  had  seen  and  heard.     Now  he  knew 

•  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  what  fate  had  befallen 

|  Jason  Carter  and  George  Bailey.     He  knew  that  Wallace 

Coville,  the  rich  and  powerful  mine  owner,  was  a  betrayer 

of  friendship,  a  dastardly  wretch,  and  a  murderer. 

But  the  sound  of  the  pick  behind  the  barrier  of  rock  and 
earth — what  had  been  the  meaning  of  it  ?  Surely,  neither 
of  the  men  entombed  in  that  dreadful  place  could  be  living 
and  striving  to  dig  a  way  out  ?" 

The  thought  that  this  was  possible  flitted  through 
Frank's  mind,  but  he  banished  it  almost  instantly. 

"They  were  entombed  there  many  weeks  ago.  It  is  an 
utter  impossibility  that  either  should  still  be  alive.  They 
could  not  subsist  on  water,  even  if  they  found  enough  of 
that.  No,  no !  both  men  are  dead !  but  the  sound  of  the 
pick — what  did  it  mean?" 

Frank  was  not  superstitious;  he  did  not  believe  in 
ghosts.  Not  for  a  moment  would  he  accept  the  belief  of 
Wallace  Coville  that  the  murdered  men  could  not  rest  in 
their  tomb,  and  were  laboring  to  open  a  passage  that  the 
world  might  come  in  and  find  their  bones. 

Still,  there  was  something  about  the  sounds  of  the  pick 
that  Frank  could  not  understand — something  mysterious 
and  awesome.  He  was  glad  to  get  away  from  the  mine, 
which  had  seemed  to  weave  a  spell  about  him — had  fasci- 
nated and  horrified  him. 

When  the  boy  remembered  the  expression  of  horror  and 
fear  on  the  face  of  Wallace  Coville  at  the  moment  when 
the  mine  owner  believed  he  had  heard  the  voice  of  one  of 
his  victims,  Frank  shivered  and  was  sick  at  heart.  Still 
he  could  not  pity  the  wretch ;  still  he  felt  no  merciful  in- 
clination for  the  dastardly  murderer. 

Frank  fancied  that  the  meshes  of  a  snare  were  drawing 
tighter  and  tighter  about  the  guilty  man.  Coville  had 
thought  his  secret  safely  buried  in  the  heart  of  the  earth, 
where  there  was  no  danger  that  it  would  ever  be  brought 
to  the  light  of  day.  Then  came  accusers  crowding  thickly 
about  him ;  first  the  son  of  the  partner  he  had  betrayed, 
then  *  wandering  parson  who  told  his  horrible  secret  to 


1 54  Held  at  Bay. 

the  public,  to  be  followed  quickly  by  a  fiery-eyed  French- 
man, with  snowy  hair  and  the  face  of  the  dead. 

But  most  horrible  of  all  had  sounded  the  blood-chilling 
words  which  he  heard  in  the  abandoned  shaft  of  the  mine 
— the  shaft  of  death.  Those  words  had  seemed  to  come 
directly  from  the  lips  of  one  of  his  victims. 

Right  well  Frank  knew  there  would  be  little  sleep  for 
Wallace  Coville  that  night. 

Nor  did  the  feverish  lad  believe  he  could  close  his  eyes 
in  slumber,  for  the  thoughts  running  riot  in  his  brain  were 
of  a  nature  that  chilled  him  at  one  moment  and  filled  all 
his  veins  with  burning  heat  at  the  next. 

Frank  went  back  to  the  hotel.  Hans  and  the  Professor 
were  sleeping,  but  Frank  sat  by  the  window  and  looked 
cut  into  the  street  of  the  mining  town. 

The  moon  was  drifting  over  to  the  west,  and  the  saloons 
of  the  camp  were  closing.  The  last  dance  had  been  reeled 
to  the  finish  in  Powder  Gap's  dance  hall,  and  drunken 
miners  were  singing  and  shouting  on  their  way  to  their 
wretched  homes.  From  the  farther  end  of  the  town  came 
the  sudden,  sharp  sounds  of  pistol  shots  and  hoarse  cries. 
Frank  wondered  if  a  human  being  had  been  shot,  or  if 
some  intoxicated  fellow  had  discharged  his  revolver  into 
the  air. 

At  last,  tired  of  sitting  at  the  window,  the  tumult  of  his 
mind  having  ceased  in  a  measure,  he  resolved  to  go  to  bed. 

Although  the  last  to  bed,  Frank  was  the  first  to  rise  in 
the  morning.  He  did  not  disturb  his  companions,  but 
went  out  for  a  walk,  hoping  the  morning  air  would  clear 
his  brain  and  make  him  feel  better. 

Frank  returned  in  time  for  breakfast  at  the  hotel,  and 
found  the  professor  and  Hans  not  a  little  worried  about 
him.  They  were  greatly  relieved  by  his  appearance. 

"How  you  vos,  Vrankie?"  called  the  jolly  Dutch  boy. 
"I  didn't  know  but  you  peen  carrit  off  der  pedpugs  by." 

"I  guess  not.  There  are  things  more  formidable  than 
bedbugs  in  this  town." 

"Yaw;  dot  peen  so.  Look  ad  der  brofessor,  und  seen 
uf  his  nose  don'd  proof  dot." 

Professor  Scotch's  nose  was  terribly  swollen  and  in- 
flamed, and  the  little  man  looked  the  picture  of  misery. 

"This  life  in  the  wild  and  woolly  west  is  altogether  too 


Held  at  Bay.  255 

swift  for  me,"  he  said,  dolefully.  "I  shall  be  glad  when 
we  get  back  to  civilization." 

The  breakfast  at  the  New  York  Hotel  might  have  been 
worse ;  but  then,  it  might  have  been  much  better.  How- 
ever, the  little  party  was  hungry,  and  each  one  ate  heartily. 
The  professor  drank  three  cups  of  rank  black  coffee,  and 
then  declared  that  he  felt  much  better. 

Almost  the  first  person  Frank  saw  after  leaving  the  din- 
ing-room of  the  hotel  was  Fabian  Dangler. 

The  remarkable  Frenchman  looked  fresh  and  clean  as 
he  smoked  a  fragrant  cigar  in  front  of  the  hotel,  his  keen 
black  eyes  closely  regarding  every  one  who  passed. 

The  moment  this  man  saw  Frank,  he  saluted  and  bowed 
with  extreme  politeness. 

"Bon  Jour,  monsieur,"  he  called.  "Ze  vera  pleasont 
morneeng,  saire." 

Frank  paused  to  speak  with  the  man,  and  then,  all  at 
once,  he  was  seized  with  an  irresistable  desire  to  tell  Dang- 
ler about  his  adventure  in  the  Giant  Mine.  This  desire 
grew  stronger  and  stronger,  and,  almost  before  he  was 
aware  what  he  was  doing,  Frank  found  himself  relating 
the  story. 

Dangler  listened  with  intense  eagerness,  his  interest  and 
excitement  growing  with  each  moment.  When  Frank 
had  finished,  the  hand  of  the  strange  Frenchman  fell  on 
the  boy's  arm. 

"We  must  act  without  delay,"  he  swiftly  said.  "Zat 
man,  he  mean  to  block  up  ze  old  shaft.  He  must  not  do 
eet." 

"You  are  right,"  cried  Frank.  "I  must  know  if  the 
bones  of  my  father  rest  in  that  chamber !  Must  know  it  ? 
I  know  it  already!  They  must  be  brought  forth  and 
given  decent  burial." 

"And  ze  murderer — what  of  heem?" 

"Must  be  punished !" 

"Oui,  oui,  oui!  Zat  ees  raight!  But  he  will  defeat  us 
eef  we  do  not  move  wiz  ze  vera  great  haste." 

"What  is  to  be  done?" 

"What  I  do,  I  do  myself,  You  must  find  ze  parzone — 
ze  one  zat  be  called  Parzone  Peesful.  Tell  him  queek  all 
zat  you  know.  Tell  heem  not  to  let  ze  pazzage  be  closed. 


Held  at  Bay. 

fois!  Zere  is  not  one  moment  to  lose!  Ze  parzone 
will  know  what  to  do." 

"But  you " 

Dangler  was  already  bounding  away,  and  five  minutes 
later,  mounted  on  a  coal-black  horse,  he  rode  furiously  out 
of  Powder  Gap. 

Frank  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  the  parson,  but 
the  man  was  found  at  last,  and  the  boy  hurriedly  told  him 
everything. 

'The  wicked  shall  escape  not  the  wrath  that  is  in  store," 
declared  Parson  Peaceful,  resolutely.  It  will  take  me 
some  minutes  to  gather  my  supporters,  but  we  will  pene- 
trate the  mine  and  explore  the  abandoned  shaft.  Coville 
shall  be  prevented  from  closing  it. 

"Unless  he  gets  the  start  of  us,  which  he  may  do,"  said 
Frank,  who  was  possessed  with  a  fever  of  anxiety. 

"I  will  do  my  best  to  prevent  that." 

Then  the  parson  rushed  away.  From  one  man  to 
another  of  the  citizens  he  quickly  passed,  saying  a  single 
word  to  each,  and  soon  a  band  of  rough,  determined-look- 
ing fellows  began  to  gather  near  the  New  York  Hotel. 

Frank  could  not  wait  for  all  this.  To  him  it  seemed 
that  things  were  progressing  far  too  slowly.  Hans  and 
the  professor  tried  to  question  him,  but  he  refused  to  be 
bothered  by  them,  and  rushed  away,  they  knew  not 
whither. 

Some  hint  of  what  was  going  on  must  have  reached 
Wallace  Coville.  The  mine  owner  had  not  appeared  at 
his  office  as  early  as  usual,  but  he  was  finally  seen  hurry- 
ing toward  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  carrying  something  in 
his  hand. 

At  the  same  time  a  party  of  men,  headed  by  Parson 
Peaceful,  came  rushing  toward  the  mine  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  town. 

But  there  was  no  chance  for  them  to  intercept  Co'ville. 

Down  a  rugged  path  from  a  point  where  he  had  been 
hidden  above  the  mouth  of  the  mine  leaped  and  bounded 
a  queer  figure — a  queueless  Chinaman.  The  Celestial 
seemed  determined  to  intercept  Coville  in  some  way,  but 
he  saw  he  would  not  be  in  time  to  block  the  mine  owner's 
path  with  his  body,  so  he  drew  a  revolver,  and  cried : 

"Halt!     Stop  where  you  are,  Jack  Larkins!     I  know 


Held  at  Bay.  257 

you,  and  you  know  me.  I  am  Dash  Wylde,  and  I  want 
you  for  the  Coburg  bank  robbery !" 

"Dash  Wylde!"  grated  Coville,  glaring  up  at  the  ad- 
vancing man — "Dash  Wylde,  the  detective !  And  1 
thought  him  a  Chinaman !  He  is  a  dead  shot,  and  he  will 
drop  me  before  I  can  plunge  into  the  mouth  of  the  mine !" 

Then  he  lifted  the  cylinder-shaped  thing  which  he  car- 
ried in  his  hand,  and  shouted : 

"Halt,  you  infernal  bloodhound !  This  is  dynamite 
which  I  hold  above  my  head,  and  it  will  explode  if  it  falls 
to  the  ground !  It  is  heavy  enough  to  tear  out  tons  of 
earth  from  the  side  of  this  mountain,  to  blow  us  both  to 
eternity !  If  you  shoot,  it  will  fall ;  if  you  come  nearer,  I 
will  fling  it  at  you !" 

The  detective  halted. 

But  the  men  from  Powder  Gap,  headed  by  the  parson 
were  coming  on,  and  Coville  cried  to  them : 

"Stop !  Stop,  or,  by  the  eternal  skies,  I  will  blow  yo* 
all  into  eternity !" 

Thus  he  held  them  at  bay. 


CHAPTER  n. 

THE    MYSTERY    EXPLAINED. CONCLUSION. 

From  a  place  of  concealment  behind  a  bowlder,  neat 
the  mouth  of  the  mine,  rose  a  boy — Frank  Merriwell. 

He  was  directly  behind  Wallace  Coville's  back,  and  he 
swiftly  made  a  cautioning  gesture  to  those  who  saw  him. 

Inch  by  inch,  step  by  step,  with  the  silence  and  caution 
of  a  creeping  cat,  Frank  stole  upon  the  man. 

The  spectators  held  their  breath  and  watched,  fearing 
Coville  would  turn  and  see  the  lad. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha !"  laughed  the  desperate  and  defiant  mine 
owner.  "You  know  my  power,  and  you  dare  not  ap- 
proach me !  If  I  were  to  drop  this  to  the  ground,  I  would 
not  be  the  only  one  to  suffer.  Some  of  you  would  be 
maimed  or  killed.  If  you  were  nearer,  death  would  be 
certain !" 

"Look  here,  brother,"  said  the  parson,  by  way  of  keep- 
ing Coville's  attention,  "why  resort  to  such  desperate  ex- 
pedients ?  We  seek  but  to  visit  your  mine." 

''For  what  reason?  You  cannot  deceive  me !  Not  one 
of  you  shall  enter  the  mine !" 

Frank  was  close  behind  the  desperate  villain.  He 
measured  the  distance  with  his  eyes,  and  then  made  a  leap 
and  a  grab. 

Only  too  well  did  Frank  realize  what  would  happen  if 
he  failed  in  his  purpose.  The  dynamite  bomb  would  fall, 
the  explosion  would  follow,  and  he  would  suffer  instant 
death  with  Wallace  Coville. 

His  hand  darted  through  the  air,  and  he  clutched  the 
deadly  thing  with  which  the  mine  owner  had  held  the  men 
at  bay.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  it  was  torn  from  Co- 
Ville's  fingers,  and  then 

Crack ! 

Frank  struck  the  man  with  all  his  strength,  plant- 
ing the  blow  behind  Coville's  ear,  and  the  villain  dropped 
like  a  log. 


The  Mystery  Explained.  259 

Down  the  steep  leaped  Dash  Wylde,  and,  with  a  cheer, 
the  parson  and  his  followers  rushed  forward. 

Dazed  and  furious,  Coville  tried  to  struggle  up,  tried  to 
draw  a  weapon,  only  to  find  himself  clutched  by  strong 
hands,  and  hear  the  voice  of  the  detective  cry : 

"These  wristlets  will  fit  you  very  nicely,  Larkins." 

Click — snap — manacles  closed  upon  the  wrists  of  the 
miserable  wretch,  making  him  secure. 

"This  is  what  I  call  very  providential,"  said  the  par- 
son, as  he  came  up. 

"Providential!  Humbug!"  came  from  the  detective. 
"There  was  nothing  providential  about  it.  It  was  a  case 
of  clean  pluck  on  the  part  of  this  boy.  Not  one  lad  in 
ten  thousand  would  have  dared  to  creep  up  behind  the 
man  and  snatch  at  the  bomb.  Failure  to  catch  it  from 
the  man's  fingers  meant  death  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
Providence!  It  was  the  cleanest  case  of  nerve  I  have 
seen  in  a  long  time." 

"Dot  vos  noddings  Vrank  Merrivell  for,"  loftily  as- 
sured Hans  Dunnerwust,  who  was  one  of  the  party  from 
the  camp.  "Dose  vos  der  d'ings  vot  he  do  for  der  fun 
uf  id." 

"Put  down  that  bomb — put  it  down,  Frank !"  cried  Pro- 
fessor Scotch.  "I  want  to  shake  hands  with  you,  but  I 
won't  come  nearer  as  long  as  you  hold  that  in  your  hand." 

The  bomb  was  given  to  a  man  who  promised  to  take 
care  of  it,  and  then  the  delighted  professor  clasped  the 
boy  in  his  arms. 

Coville  glared  at  Frank. 

"You  have  done  the  very  thing  I  knew  you  would !"  he 
grated,  with  impotent  rage.  "You  have  brought  about 
my  destruction.  When  I  first  saw  you,  I  felt  sure  you 
were  a  dangerous  and  deadly  enemy,  even  though  you 
are  but  a  boy." 

"You  shall  have  due  credit  for  all  you  have  done  in 
aiding  me  to  capture  this  notorious  bank  robber,"  said 
Dash  Wylde. 

"I  am  not  looking  for  glory,"  was  Frank's  sober  as- 
sertion. "I  wish  to  avenge  my  father,  who  suffered 
through  the  dastardly  perfidy  of  this  man." 

"If  your  father  were  living,  he  would  have  cause  to 
be  proud  of  such  a  son.  This  man,  who  has  been  known 


260  The  Mystery  Explained. 

here  as  Wallace  Coville,  is  one  of  the  most  notorious 
bank-breakers.  He  knows  me  well,  and  so,  when  I 
started  to  run  him  down  for  his  last  job,  I  was  forced  to 
assume  a  disguise.  But  he  has  changed  in  an  astonish- 
ing manner  since  I  saw  him  last,  and,  at  first,  I  was  not 
sure  that  he  could  be  Jack  Larkins.  I  have  been  watch- 
ing him  since  coming  into  town.  I  had  been  watching 
him  last  night  when  you  came  upon  me.  I  fancied  you 
believed  Sing  Lee  was  not  a  Chinaman,  and  so  I  broke 
away  from  you;  but  you  caught  my  queue,  and  I  left  it 
in  your  hands." 

"Thereby  surprising  me  very  much." 

It  was  now  proposed  that  the  captive  should  be  taken 
down  into  the  mine.  At  first  the  detective  did  not  ap- 
prove of  this,  but  Parson  Peaceful  drew  him  aside  and 
gained  his  consent. 

Dejected,  listless,  limp,  and  weak,  Coville  allowed 
them  to  do  as  they  desired. 

The  miners  were  astonished  by  what  had  taken  place, 
but  no  one  attempted  to  interfere. 

Lamps  were  procured,  and  the  entire  party  entered 
the  mouth  of  the  mine  and  descended  the  slope. 

At  last  the  captive  seemed  to  realize  what  was  taking 
place,  and  he  began  to  show  symptoms  of  agitation  as 
they  approached  the  abandoned  shaft.  When  they  were 
on  the  point  of  turning  into  the  shaft,  he  halted  and  re- 
fused to  go  farther. 

"I  will  not  go  there !"  he  declared. 

But  he  was  forced  to  accompany  them,  although  his 
agitation  and  fear  increased  with  each  moment. 

Finally  the  barrier  was  reached,  and  there  they  halted. 
At  this  point  the  prisoner  braced  up,  forcing  a  harsh 
laugh,  and  sneering: 

"Well,  now  that  you  have  dragged  me  down  here,  I 
hope  you  are  satisfied !  What  have  you  found  to  please 
you?" 

"We  have  found  the  place  where  you  bury  your  vic- 
tims," said  the  parson,  solemnly ;  "but  the  grave  shall  give 
up  its  dead." 

The  manacled  man  fell  back  a  bit,  and  then  once  more 
forced  a  laugh. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do — frighten  me?" 


The  Mystery  Explained.  261 

The  parson  lifted  one  hand. 

"Listen!" 

Click!  click!  click! 

It  was  the  sound  of  a  pick,  and  it  seemed  to  come 
from  beyond  the  barrier  which  filled  the  passage. 

The  prisoner  began  to  tremble,  seeking  to  draw  still 
farther  from  the  spot. 

A  deathlike  hush  came  over  the  party,  and  they  could 
distinctly  hear  the  steady  blows  of  the  pick. 

Of  a  sudden,  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  prisoner, 
who  struggled  to  break  away,  shrieking : 

"Let  me  go!  He  is  digging  out!  He  is  coming!  I 
can  feel  him  coming  nearer,  nearer,  nearer!  I  can  feel 
his  cold,  dead  hand  at  my  throat !  He  is  strangling  me !" 

The  wretch  choked  and  grew  black  in  the  face,  but 
Dash  Wylde  pounded  him  upon  the  back,  and  he  finally 
breathed  more  freely,  but  he  was  so  weak  that  it  was 
necessary  to  hold  him  upon  his  feet. 

"I  told  you  the  grave  should  give  up  its  dead,"  said 
the  solemn  voice  of  the  parson.  "Behold  it  shall  come 
true.  Look,  look !  The  barrier  falls  !" 

The  final  blows  of  the  pick  were  heard,  and  the  wall 
that  blocked  the  passage  was  seen  to  move,  a  great  bowlder 
and  mass  of  earth  sunk  inward,  leaving  a  large  opening. 

Wondering  and  spellbound,  the  men  stared  at  this 
opening,  with  the  prisoner  now  upright  and  rigid,  as  if 
turned  to  stone. 

Something  moved  in  the  darkness  beyond. the  range 
of  the  lamps,  and  then  through  the  opening  slowly  came 
the  form  of  a  man.  Down  over  the  mass  of  earth  and 
stone  he  stepped,  keeping  his  dark  eyes  fairly  on  the  man 
with  manacles  on  his  wrist. 

Frank  reeled  in  his  tracks,  gasping : 

"Father — it  is  my  father!" 

"It's  Jason  Carter !"  shrieked  the  prisoner. 

And  then,  with  a  rattling  sound  in  his  throat,  he  fell 
limply  into  the  detective's  arms. 

Dash  lowered  the  man  to  the  ground  fanned  him,  tore 
open  his  shirt  at  the  throat,  felt  of  his  pulse,  felt  of  his 
heart,  and  then  cried : 

"He  is  dead !  Jack  Larkins  will  never  do  time  for  the 
Coburg  Bank  robbery!" 


262  The  Mystery  Explained. 

"It  is  the  hand  of  justice !"  sounded  solemnly  from  the 
lips  of  the  man  who  had  come  through  the  opening.  "The 
wages  of  sin  is  death,  and  he  has  suffered  for  his  many 
crimes." 

It  is  Carter !"  shouted  one  of  the  miners,  in  the  greatest 
wonder.  "It's  Carter — alive  !" 

"Now,"  said  another,  "if  George  Bailey  were  to  ap- 
pear- 

"George  Bailey  is  here !" 

It  was  the  parson  who  spoke. 

"My  friends,"  he  continued,  "the  removal  of  my  beard 
and  my  efforts  at  disguising  my  voice  has  deceived  every 
one.  I  am  no  parson,  but  I  am  the  man  who  started  to 
find  Jason  Carter,  dead  or  alive." 

"And  you  found  him — alive?" 

"Yes.  I  was  thrust  into  his  tomb — thrust  in  there  by 
Coville,  who  closed  the  last  opening,  which  was  far  above 
Carter's  reach.  Carter  was  nearly  dead.  With  a  pick, 
which  he  had  discovered,  he  had  been  trying  to  dig  his 
way  out.  I  went  at  the  task,  trying  all  the  walls.  One  of 
them  sounded  hollow,  and  a  few  hours'  work  enabled 
me  to  force  a  way  through  into  a  great  cavern.  Hope 
returned  to  Carter,  and  we  sought  a  way  of  getting  out 
to  the  world.  I  will  not  tell  of  all  our  sufferings  and  our 
wanderings.  We  finally  made  our  way  out  to  a  distant 
side  of  the  mountain;  but  Carter  was  changed  to  an  old 
man  with  snowy  hair  and  ghastly  face,  besides  being 
nearly  dead  from  want  of  nourishment.  We  obtained 
shelter  and  food  at  the  hut  of  old  Injun  Joe,  and  Carter 
did  not  die,  although  he  came  very  near  it.  When  his 
strength  returned,  we  re-explored  the  cave.  We  found 
a  little  stream,  at  the  bottom  of  which  were  golden  nug- 
gets, and  we  made  our  way  back  to  the  place  where  Co- 
ville had  entombed  us  to  die.  Then  our  plan  for  re- 
venge was  perfected.  Carter  had  changed  so  that,  by 
shaving  off  part  of  his  beard,  it  was  believed  he  would 
not  be  known.  I  was  also  changed,  and  I  disguised  my- 
self. We  hired  Injun  Joe  and  two  other  men  to  con- 
stantly dig  within  the  place  where  we  were  supposed  to 
be  entombed.  We  did  some  work  ourselves,  believing 
we  could  open  a  passage  into  this  shaft.  At  length,  by 
careful  work,  we  had  everything  ready,  so  a  few  strokes 


The  Mystery  Explained.  263 

of  the  pick  would  make  the  opening.  Still  we  kept  the 
men  picking,  although  careful  not  to  break  through, 
knowing  that  Coville  sometimes  came  here  and  listened 
It  was  part  of  our  plan  to  fill  his  heart  with  terror. 
Carter  had  a  beard  and  wig  prepared  to  make  him  look 
as  he  appeared  before  being  entombed  here,  and  then  we 
appeared  in  Powder  Gap.  When  he  learned  that  Coville 
was  likely  to  fill  the  old  shaft  with  explosives,  he  lost  no 
time  in  taking  a  horse  and  riding  round  the  mountain, 
hurrying  through  the  cave,  and  being  ready  to  appear  if 
things  worked  right.  They  worked  all  right,  and  he  ap- 
peared." 

"Then,"  cried  a  wondering  listener,  "Carter  must  have 
appeared  in  Powder  Gap  as " 

"As  Fabian  Danglar,  the  Frenchman,"  said  the  man 
himself,  removing  the  wig  and  beard. 

A  few  words  more  and  we  will  bring  our  story  to  a 
close. 

Frank  Merriwell's  father,  Charles  Carter  Merriwell, 
was  alive,  and  his  false  partner,  Wallace  Coville,  alias 
Jack  Larkins,  was  dead.  Every  mystery  in  connection 
with  the  most  remarkable  affair  had  been  explained,  but 
Powder  Gap  did  not  get  over  its  wonderment  for  a  week. 

In  that  place  Charles  Merriwell  continued  to  be  known 
as  Jason  Carter.  It  was  his  choice.  To  Frank  he  said: 

"Some  day  I  may  choose  to  be  known  as  Charles  Mer- 
riwell ;  but  that  time  has  not  come.  For  the  present,  you 
are  well  fixed,  and  I  heartily  approve  of  my  brother's 
scheme  for  the  perfection  of  your  education.  Continue 
your  travels,  my  son,  and  let  me  hear  from  you  occa- 
sionally." 

So  Frank  continued  to  travel,  as  Asher  Merriwell  had 
designated  by  his  will,  and  some  of  his  future  adventures 
will  be  related  in  the  next  volume  of  this  series,  entitled : 
"Frank  Merriwell  Down  South."  For  the  time  being 
all  went  well,  and  here  let  us  shake  him  by  the  hand  and 
say  farewell. 

THE  END. 


BEST  OF  ALL  BOYS'  BOOKS 


THE  FAMOUS 

Frank  Merriwell  Stories 

By  BURT  L.  STANDISH 

No  modern  series  of  tales  for  boys  and  youths  has 
met  with  anything  like  the  cordial  reception  and  popu- 
larity accorded  to  the  Frank  Merriwell  Stories. 

There  must  be  a  reason  for  this  and  there  is.  Frank 
Merriwell,  as  portrayed  by  the  author,  is  a  jolly,  whole- 
souled,  honest,  courageous  American  lad,  who  appeals 
to  the  hearts  of  the  boys.  He  has  no  bad  habits,  and 
his  manliness  inculcates  the  idea  that  it  is  not  necessary 
for  a  boy  to  indulge  in  petty  vices  to  be  a  hero.  Frank 
Merriwell's  example  is  a  shining  light  for  every  ambitious 
lad  to  follow. 

Twenty-four  volumes  ready 

Frank  Merriwell's  School  Days  Frank  Merriwell's  Skill 

Frank  Merriwell's  Chums  Frank  Merriwell's  Champions 

Frank  Merriwell's  Foes  Frank  Merriwell's  Return  to  Yale 

Frank  Merriwell's  Trip  West  Frank  Merriwell's  Secret 

Frank  Merriwell  Down  South  Frank  Merriwell's  Loyalty 

Frank  Merriwell's  Bravery  Frank  Merriwell's  Reward 

Frank  Merriwell's  Races  Frank  Merriwell's  Faith 

Frank  Merriwell's  Hunting  Tour  Frank  Merriwell's  Victories 

Frank  Merriwell's  Sports  Afield  Frank  Merriwell's  Power 

Frank  Merriwell  at  Yale  Frank  Merriwell's  Set-Back 

Frank  Merriwell's  Courage  Frank  Merriwell's  False  Friend 

Frank  Merriwell's  Daring  Frank  Merriwell's  Brother 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(i) 


THE  MOTOR  POWER  SERIES 

Donald  Grayson's  Famous 
Motor  Stories  for  Boys  ^ 

Mr.  Grayson  is  an  accomplished  writer  of  up-to-the- 
minute  juvenile  stories  which  are  eagerly  read  by 
modern  American  lads. 

In  his  new  series,  his  characters  have  exciting  adven- 
tures with  every  kind  of  motor-driven  machines — motor 
cycles,  automobiles,  aeroplanes  and  submarines. 

You  may  readily  see  what  a  vast  field  for  adventures 
Mr.  Grayson  has  chosen. 

Now  Ready 

BOB  STEELE'S  MOTOR  CYCLE 

BOB  STEELE  ON  HIGH  GEAR 

BOB  STEELE  FROM  AUTO  TO  AIRSHIP 

BOB  STEELE  AFLOAT  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

BOB  STEELE'S  SUBMARINE  CRUISE 

BOB  STEELE  IN  STRANGE  WATERS 

BOB  STEELE'S  MOTOR  BOAT 

BOB  STEELE'S  WINNING  RACE 

BOB  STEELE'S  NEW  AEROPLANE 

BOB  STEELE'S  LAST  FLIGHT 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding1,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(2) 


BOYS  OF  LIBERTY  LIBRARY 

NEW  SERIES  of  splendid  tales  of  the  wonderful  and 
stirring  adventures  of  boys  who  fought  in  The  Revolu- 
tionary  War,  The  French  and  Indian  Wars,  and  Naval 
Battles  of  1812. 

The  stories  are  written  in  an  intensely  interesting  style,  and  no 
boy  can  read  them  without  being  aroused  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
patriotic  enthusiasm. 

We  give  herewith  a  list  of  titles  now  ready.  Read  the  first  and 
you  will  want  to  read  all  the  others.  I2mo.  Cloth,  handsomely 
bound. 

PAUL  REVERE.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  FIRST  SHOT  FOR  LIBERTY.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

FOOLING  THE  ENEMY.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

INTO  THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  HERO  OF  TICONDEROGA.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

ON  TO  QUEBEC.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

FIGHTING  HAL.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

MARION  AND  HIS  MEN.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  YOUNG  AMBASSADOR.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  YOUNG  GUARDSMAN.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  LIVELY  BEE.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  TORY  PLOT.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

IN  BUFF  AND  BLUE.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

WASHINGTON'S  YOUNG  SPY.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

UNDER  GREENE'S  BANNER.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

FOR  FREEDOM'S  CAUSE.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

CAPTAIN  OF  THE  MINUTE  MEN.    By  Harrie  Irving  Hancock. 

THE  QUAKER  SPY.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

FIGHTING  FOR  FREEDOM.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

BY  ORDER  OF  THE  COLONEL.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

A  CALL  TO  DUTY.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

IN  GLORY'S  VAN.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

THE  TRADER'S  CAPTIVE.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

THE  YOUNG  PATRIOT.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

"  OLD  PUT  "  THE  PATRIOT.    By  Frederick  A.  Ober. 

THE  LEAGUE  OF  FIVE.    By  Commander  Post. 

THE  KING'S  MESSENGER.    By  Capt.  Frank  Ralph. 

DASHING  PAUL  JONES.    By  Frank  Sheridan. 

FROM  MIDSHIPMAN  TO  COMMODORE.     By  Frank  Sheridan. 

THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  ESSEX.     By  Frank  Sheridan. 

LAND  HERO  OF  1812.    By  C.  C.  Hotchkiss. 

FOLLOWING  MAD  ANTHONY.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

THE  YOUNG  CAPTAINS.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

CAMPAIGNING  WITH  BRADDOCK.    By  William  Murray  Graydon. 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(3) 


THE  ROB  RANGER  SERIES 

By  LIEUT.  LIONEL  LOUNSBERRY 


healthy  boys  could  well  be  imagined. 


ROB   RANGER'S   MINE,  or  THE  BOY  WHO   GOT  THERE.     By  Lieut. 

Lionel  Lounsberry. 
ROB  RANGER   THE  YOUNG   RANCHMAN,  or  GOING   IT  ALONE   AT 

LOST  RIVER.    By  Lieut.  Lionel  Lounsberry. 
ROB  RANGER'S  COWBOY  DAYS,  or  THE  YOUNG  HUNTER  OF  THE 

BIG  HORN.    By  Lieut.  Lionel  Lounsberry. 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

THE  CIRCUS  SERIES 

BY 

STANLEY  NORRIS  VICTOR  ST.  CLAIR 

Where  is  there  a  boy  who  does  not  love  a  circus  and  who  does  not  also  love  to  take 
a  peep  "behind  the  scenes"  of  the  great  white  canvas?  There  are  adventures  galore, 
enough  to  satisfy  any  healthy  youngster. 

PHIL   THE    SHOWMAN,    or    LIFE    IN    THE    SAWDUST    RING.     By 

Stanley  Norris. 
YOUNG  SHOWMAN'S  RIVALS,  or  UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  THE  ROAD. 

By  Stanley  Norris. 
YOUNG  SHOWMAN'S    PLUCK,  or  AN  UNKNOWN    RIDER  IN  THE 

RING.    By  Stanley  Norris. 
YOUNG  SHOWMAN'S  TRIUMPH,  or  A  GRAND  TOUR  ON  THE  ROAD. 

By  Stanley  Norria. 
ZIG-ZAG,  THE   BOY  CONJURER,  or  LIFE  ON  AND  OFF  THE  STAGE. 

By  Victor  St.  Clair. 
ZIP,  THE  ACROBAT,  or  THE  OLD  SHOWMAN'S  SECRET.    By  Victor 

St.  Clair.  ,,.    . 

Price,  6O  eents  per  volume 

THE  MATTHEW  WHITE  SERIES 

These  books  are  full  of  good,  clean  adventure,  thrilling  enough  to  please  the  full- 
blooded  wide-awake  boy,  yet  containing  nothing  to  which  there  can  be  any  objection 
from  those  who  are  careful  as  to  the  kind  of  books  they  put  into  the  hands  of  the  young. 

ADVENTURES  OF  A  YOUNG  ATHLETE.— A  story  of  how  a  boy  saved  his 

father's  name  and  fortune. 

ERIC  DANE. — Interesting  experiences  of  a  boy  of  means. 
GUY  HAMMERSLEY. — How  an  energetic  boy  cleared  bis  name. 
MY  MYSTERIOUS   FORTUNE.— An  extremely  interesting  story  of  a  £200,000 

check. 
THE  TOUR  OF  A  PRIVATE  CAR. — Interesting  experiences  of  a  young  private 

secretary. 
THE  YOUNG  EDITOR.— Experiences  of  a  bright  boy  editing  a  weekly  paper. 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(4) 


The  Famous  Adventure  Series 

An  ideal  series  of  books  for  boys  of  all  ages.  The  stories 
are  of  the  bright  and  sparkling  kind,  full  of  adventures  on 
land  and  sea  and  not  over-burdened  with  lengthy  descriptions ; 
in  fact,  just  the  sort  that  must  appeal  to  every  healthy  boy 
who  is  fond  of  thrilling  exploits  and  deeds  of  heroism. 

The  names  of  the  authors  give  sufficient  guarantee  to  their 
merits.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  Henry  Harrison 
Lewis,  who  is  a  graduate  of  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis, 
and  has  written  a  great  many  books  for  boys. 

A  VOYAGE  TO  THE  GOLD  COAST.    By  Frank 
H.  Converse. 

An  adventurous  trip  of  New  England  boys  to  Africa. 

CAMP  IN  THE  SNOW.    By  Wm.  Murray  Graydon. 

Boys'  winter  camp  life  in  northern  New  England. 

CENTREBOARD  JIM.     By  Henry  Harrison  Lewis. 

The  secret  of  Sargasso  Sea. 

FROM  LAKE  TO  WILDERNESS.    By  Wm.  Murray 
Graydon. 

Adventures  around  the  northern  lakes. 

HOW  HE  WON.    By  Brooks  McCormick. 

Triumphs  of  a  plucky  boy  afloat  and  ashore. 

IN   SEARCH    OF   AN    UNKNOWN   RACE.     By 
Frank  H.  Converse. 

A  thrilling  story  of  exploration  in  Brazil. 

KING  OF  THE  ISLAND.    By  Henry  Harrison  Lewis. 

Strange  adventures  on  a  South  Sea  Island. 

TOM  HAVEN  WITH  THE  WHITE  SQUADRON. 
By  Lieut.  James  K.  Orion. 

The  adventures  of  a  young  inventor  of  a  submarine  boat. 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(5) 


THE  ANNAPOLIS  SERIES 

By  ENSIGN  CLARKE  FITCH,  U.  S.  N. 

A  graduate  of  the  U.  S.  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  and 
thoroughly  familiar  with  all  naval  matters  Mr.  Fitch  has 
devoted  himself  to  literature,  and  has  written  a  series  of 
books  for  boys  that  every  young  American  should  read.  His 
stories  are  full  of  interesting  information  about  the  navy, 
training  ships,  etc. 

BOUND  FOR  ANNAPOLIS,  or  The  Trials  of  a  Sailor  Boy. 
CLIP,  THE  NAVAL  CADET,  or  Exciting  Days  at  Annapolis. 

THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  TRAINING  SHIP,  or  Clif  Faraday's 
Pluck. 

FROM  PORT  TO  PORT,  or  Clif  Faraday  in  Many  Waters. 
A  STRANGE  CRUISE,  or  Clif  Faraday's  Yacht  Chase. 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding1,  75  cents  per  volume 

THE  WEST  POINT  SERIES 

By  LIEUT.  FREDERICK  GARRISON,  U.  S.  A. 

Every  American  boy  takes  a  keen  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
West  Point.  No  more  capable  writer  on  this  popular  subject 
could  be  found  than  Lieut.  Garrison,  who  vividly  describes 
the  life,  adventures  and  unique  incidents  that  have  occurred 
in  that  great  institution — in  these  famous  West  Point  stories. 

OFF  FOR  WEST  POINT,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Struggle. 
A  CADET'S  HONOR,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Heroism. 
ON  GUARD,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Celebration. 

THE  WEST  POINT  TREASURE,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Strange 
Find. 

THE  WEST  POINT  RIVALS,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Strategem. 
Illustrated,  cloth  binding,  75  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(6) 


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405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

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